Harry Potter and the Book of Memories
by Mystiq
Summary: Harry survived the Killing Curse once more but the world considers him dead. Sirius is missing half his soul and the condition will begin to take a toll on Harry. Voldemort is weak and striving to gain power... Harry needs to stop it but Dumbledore is...
1. The Trap

. H . A . R . R . Y . . . P . O . T . T . E . R .  
. A N D . T H E . B O O K . O F . M E M O R I E S .  
  
SUMMARY:  
Harry survived the Killing Curse once more but the world considers him dead. Sirius is missing half his soul and the condition will begin to take a toll on Harry. Voldemort is weak and striving to gain power... There's something under the school and Harry finds out that Voldemort wants it. Harry needs whats there -- and soon for more reasons than he knows at first -- but Dumbledore is...  
  
FOREWARD:  
Sequel to Mark of Ancients. Please read that before reading this!  
http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=858638  
  
SEQUEL:  
Harry Potter and the Staff of Cybele.  
http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1064198  
  
Update: January 28th, 2003:  
Having a strong urge to re-read this story, I took the time to proof read it again. Mistakes, both from the original books and this story's own mistakes, were found and corrected, text was edited, spelling/grammar mistakes were fixed, etc. It's slightly longer, but only just. This story is very near finalized and I am quite proud of 90% of it's text. Note that the story itself will not change at all in future edits, just possibly some text added where description is needed and grammar/dialog will/might be improved in future revisions.  
  
CHAPTER INDEX  
  
-1. The Trap  
-2. The Boy Who Lived  
-3. Order Of Merlin  
-4. One Last Gift  
-5. Michelle And Thantanos  
-6. The Best Birthday  
-7. Chasing The Puffskein  
-8. Ron's Prediction  
-9. Girl Trouble  
-10. The Patient  
-11. Finding Peace  
-12. Cho  
-13. Pettigrew's Plea  
-14. Four-way Fight  
-15. Dumbledore's Mistake  
-16. A Bad Christmas  
-17. A Decision Solidified  
-18. The Conversation  
-19. Some New Hope  
-20. The Revival  
-21. Fluffy And The Phoenix Bracelet  
-22. Harry's Dream  
-23. Horrible Prospects  
-24. Dumbledore's Other Mistake  
-25. Resilience  
  
Chapter 1: THE TRAP  
  
"RUN!"  
  
Something screamed at Harry at the top of it's lungs from behind a tree. His eyes opened. There was not much choice so he scrambled to his feet and ran for it. Not a clue in his mind could explain how he survived the Killing Curse only moments ago. The pain in his body, except for the sharp stings in his back, was completely gone but he was now stranded in the forest, no one anywhere in sight to help him get out. His legs carried him with lightning speed. Eerie sounds of the forest didn't hold him back.  
  
Immediate thoughts were of hopelessness but the voice screamed again, "KEEP RUNNING! YOU'LL MAKE IT!" For a minute, he realized why he was running. A deep, loud cry echoed through the forest with the owner having to be quite the deadly one and nearby. He dashed headlong through trees, branches, low hung thorns and vines and nearly tripped on an outstretched branch from a low tree. Harry gripped his wand tight, waiting for a moment where he might be forced to use it. The forest seemed to never end just as the other forest did. How long would he keep running? Minutes? Hours? Days? His legs were not tiring but a great feeling of desperacy crossed his heart more than once. Trapped in this bleak, dark forest, darker than the forbidden forest near Hogwarts, he thought, as the pattern of trees, branches and echoes looked to never end.  
  
It did not take much longer before he fell to the ground suddenly in a cold sweat. "You're out," said the voice, now very calm. "Good."  
  
Harry's eyes blinked and opened once more. That was just a dream. He was sopping wet and his back was squishy, probably covered in mud. Harry's back was still aching, a reminder that he probably did break a bone or two. The cuts on his hands healed and his scarlet Quidditch robes looked quite nasty. What was that voice? More importantly, how was he going to get out now? Maybe he could get his Dragonback.  
  
"Accio Dragonback!" Harry screamed as loud as he could, laying on the ground.  
  
He waited several minutesm hoping it would come, seeing it fly towards him in his head, but there was no sign of the Dragonback. It was stupid to think he could summon it from so far away, not even knowing where it could be.  
  
He took a look at his surroundings. Trees were scorched to the stump like there had been a huge forest fire. Branches hung loose coupled with the smell of burnt wood piercing his nose. One tree was singed down to it's roots and the grass all around him was black as night. He could not have been out long... unless the damage to the forest was a lot worse than what he was seeing now.  
  
Some hunger pains from his stomach made him realize he must have been out for a long time. He sat up and took a quick glance around. Nothing looked edible. Harry then stood up, shaking his head to get some of the mud out, plainly feeling like Voldemort should had succeeded because he was going to die of hunger anyway. He walked for about ten minutes, all the while looking for something that could be safe to stick in his mouth.  
  
Berries lined the ground but they were covered in moss. The thought made him feel sick. Something hard fell on his head and as he scratched it, he looked down to see an apple. Strange, he thought, but nonetheless he took off the Quidditch gauntlets, picked the apple up, wiped the dirt with a sleeve and sniffed it. The smell was more than pleasant and with a final thought of "It's safe," he took a big, glorious bite.  
  
He took a squishy seat on the ground. An indication of it having previously rain was the soggy ground and moist air. The stickiness didn't bother him at the moment because he was glad to be alive. Harry slowly finished the apple as a renewed sense of life rushed through him. That wasn't enough, though, and it left him hungry for more but the berries weren't all that inviting, to be truthful...  
  
Harry continued his hopeless walk before sitting on a tree stump. He pulled off the ruddy cloak and tossed it angrily on the ground in front of him sitting quietly, thinking, dreaming of some way to get himself out.  
  
A blank stare, fighting off hunger, was all he could manage for a few hours before becoming tired again. No amount of light shined through the towering tree tops and there was no way to tell if it was day or night. Hope came in the form of a powerful feeling of wanting to sleep. Harry crawled off the tree stump and held his cloak high, pointed his wand at it and said, "Ablutum!" which washed the cloak clean with a light spray of water. He repeated the process, pulling the disgusting shirt off his back, before pointing the wand at each of his legs and saying it again.  
  
He didn't particularly want to lay on the disgusting ground but his current situtation didn't leave him with much choice. Feeling at least a little more well-kept, he searched for a spot that might be a little better to lay down on and he put his cloak on a particularly dry spot to lay his upper body on (including his head). He ignored the spiders that walked across the ground; Harry had much experience with six legged pets in his ten years not knowing he was a wizard.  
  
Life continued when his eyes reopened. After some desperate walking to find something else to eat, Harry came across a tree that was sprouting apples. Something must have been carrying one and accidently dropped it over his head yesterday. Surviving off apples wasn't his idea of a good diet. He supposed he would have to kill an animal and cook it himself. Disgusted at the mere thought, he pondered over whether that was a very good idea. This forest was very likely to be home to brutes and beasts the likes of which he would rather not see.  
  
Just before he finished convincing himself, something rustled the bushes behind him.  
  
"Who's there?" he whispered, brandishing his wand and turning around fast. The bush rustled once more before a mutation between a rabbit with fangs and an elephant leapt out of the bushes and scrambled away. "Lacarnum inflamare!" he shouted. The rabbit-elephant was caught ablaze and fell limp. Harry stepped cautiously over to it and put out the fire with a water charm ("Aquor!"). The animal was surely dead but it wasn't very inviting to just take a bite out of it. He turned away and walked back to the apple tree, taking down three and eating them all in a few minutes.  
  
Later that day, he got the idea of tossing the apple in the air, setting it on fire and then quickly putting it out. This gave them a slightly different taste and he figured he could last a few more days on them. Feeling tired again, and quite cold, he put the gauntlets back on, engorged the cloak, wrapping it around himself twice and lay down again on a relatively dry spot on the ground. A few beetles came by to say goodnight.  
  
When he awoke, something white, soft and fluffy was sitting on his face.  
  
"Hedwig!"  
  
He blew some air at her and she fluttered off. Harry scrambled to his feet. The only thought he had was that they let Hedwig go out of his honor and she found him. Hedwig was in great condition, her feathers thick and fluffy, very refreshed and lively as she bounced around the ground pecking at anything that moved.  
  
Almost immediately, Harry thought of finding something to write on and sending her back but immediately after, he had to ask himself, "What could I write on?" It was obvious, after all, to notify someone, anyone, that he was alive. Hedwig carried nothing and the only possible way would be to prick his finger with something and write with blood but as the forest didn't have anything very sharp - or clean for that matter - he'd rather not get sick and die.  
  
That thought torn asunder, he said, "Come on, Hedwig," picking her up off the ground. "It's not very pleasant, but it's all we have at the moment." He made sure to spend all his time at the apple tree and not walk out of sight of it. Hedwig grudgingly ate one but she rather enjoyed the worm that crawled out of it. Harry would be sure to check for worms in future meals.  
  
Night fell again and the two of them survived a heavy downpour, Harry's back still aching. He floated a concotion of a bunch of leaves just above another one, setting the bottom one on fire so as to not have the rest of the forest catch fire. The warmth heated Harry very nicely and he let it burn, throwing on more leaves and branches.  
  
New immediate thoughts were of renewed hope. He had a companion now, at least, and was no longer fully alone. Loneliness was a feeling he had to bare for ten hard years and was not about to relive it. He would not spend the rest of his days trapped in a forest.  
  
"I'm getting out of here!" he shouted. Harry put the fire out and fell asleep, Hedwig resting on a tuft of branches and leaves next to him.  
  
Several more days of hopeless moping resulted in a thick feeling of depression setting in. He took to running back and forth stupidly to tire himself out so he could simply sleep the days away.  
  
When he awoke one morning, three centaurs were staring down at him.  
  
"Harry Potter," called one of them, like he was out of breath trying to find him, "if you remember, I am Bane. This is Ronan and Firenze. We heard what happened immediately. The planets bring word quickly. Such were the readings of Mars when you had survived again."  
  
Harry propped himself up on his hands and gazed at them cluelessly.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You must get out of here and back to Hogwarts. It has been two months that you lie unconscious in this very spot."  
  
"I've been up and about for the past few days..."  
  
"The skies tell us that the wizarding world considers you dead," said Bane. This came to Harry as no surprise given what he just learned and has been doing his past days. "It took us two months to find you in this forest and it will probably take just as long to get out --"  
  
"Two months!?" cried Harry, getting to his feet. "I don't know if I could last two more days."  
  
"It is against the will of centaurs, but we will allow you to ride on our backs. That way, you might get out faster. It appears Voldemort was thrown out of power once again such like what happened fourteen years ago. His body is weak but he proclaims you have died. The planets did not read as such as I immediately set out search for you."  
  
"So glad we are, Mr. Potter, to find you alive," said Firenze.  
  
"No one's happier than I am to have someone find me," said Harry flatly. "Trust me." He would surely go insane and try to find ways of killing himself painlessly.  
  
"Quickly," said Firenze, "climb on and hold tight." Harry snatched Hedwig, climbed on to Firenze's back and held Hedwig tight in one arm.  
  
It was no broomstick. Firenze charged through the forest, bucking Harry up and down, Bane and Ronan following closely. Through thick trees, bouncing up and down and avoiding low tree branches they went... all until they came across the Balrog that had finished off Dumbledore and the others.  
  
"Back!" barked Bane. "BACK!"  
  
"No," said Harry sternly. "That thing killed Albus Dumbledore." The balrog made a slash at Harry's head, cleanly missing. "You three stay out of trouble. I'm killing it or going to die trying."  
  
The centaurs seemed to have no objections. It was their opinion, Harry knew, not to interfere with another's decision. If Harry should die, they would let it happen.  
  
"Stupid wizard," roared the balrog.  
  
"YOU'LL DIE!" screamed Harry, not intimidated by the beast that had at least fifty feet worth of height on him.  
  
The balrog roared and slashed at several nearby trees, uprooting them and sending them crashing into more nearby trees. Harry brandished his wand like a weapon of mass destruction, pointed it up at the balrog and bellowed, "AVADA KEDAVRA!" Green light tore out of the tip of his wand and burrowed within the balrog.  
  
It did not fall dead and merely looked annoyed.  
  
"You should have told me normal magic doesn't work against these things," he called out to Bane nervously.  
  
"It is not our place to alter the planet's predictions," said Bane calmly.  
  
"Forget you," barked Harry. "I'm getting myself out of here." Harry ducked as the stupid balrog made a pathetic slash at him.  
  
"We are fated to help you out, Harry --"  
  
"IF YOU'RE SO FATED THEN KILL THIS THING!" Harry thundered.  
  
Bane, Firenze and Ronan all walked to each other, standing in circle. Bane pulled Harry in the middle of them. They all began chanting very familiar words.  
  
"Parcere meus vita, parcere meus anima," chanted the three of them. "Accio potentia caeles intus veneficus adfirmo. Adiumentum meus via. Parcere meus vita, parcere meus anima. Addere ultimus clades ad parcere nullus altera!"  
  
The forest turned dark, so dark Harry could no longer see anything. White blobs filled the air and a rumbling noise shook the ground. The balrog roared once more and a brilliant flash of fire indicated it's death. The darkness was lifted, Harry could see again and the centaurs look like they had just picked apples.  
  
"Come quickly," said Firenze. Harry climbed back on and off they went.  
  
The centaurs took Harry a fair way before stopping.  
  
"We will rest here tonight," said Bane. "The forest, especially this forest," -- and Harry wondered what this forest is... -- "is deadly at night. Step off, Harry Potter, and go inside that hut."  
  
Clearly through some trees, there was a hut made of wood. It was sparkling and Harry figured he could not be harmed inside. That was very comforting given the noises this part of the forest was making.  
  
"Stay here tonight, Harry Potter. You will be safe."  
  
This turn of events didn't exactly leave him with much choice. So in he walked. The centaurs brought real food (it was only some meat, bread and water but anything is better than apples and their juice at this point). The hut was about as big as Hagrid's, complete with a wolf skin rug on the floor where he would sleep, one very small window and a battered fireplace.  
  
Harry sat on the rug, mindlessly stroking Hedwig. She enjoyed it all the same. He sat up, staring at the sky, which he could finally see, through a small hole in the roof. He longed to be back at Hogwarts or even back with the Dursleys but currently it all seemed like a faded dream, trapped in a forest with a bunch of crazy centaurs. Hedwig fluttered to the window and perched onto a loose wooden board.  
  
Harry heaved a great sigh, feeling almost to tears. The sight of Lily and James he knew would stick with him all night. He wished he still had the crystal ball, the mark of ancients and the Mirror of Erised. Even if they couldn't get him out alive, he would be happy. One tear slid down a cheek, a sad reminder of the graveness of the current situation.  
  
"I'm getting out of here!" he shouted again, before he cuddled up with the soft rug.  
  
In the morning, Harry's throat hit the sogged floor at the sight, or lack thereof, of the centaurs. Bane, Firenze and Ronan were gone, leaving him to fend for himself once again. He kicked a tree with all his might, achieving nothing but a sharp sting in his big toe. It appeared, however, that the centaurs took the time to tend to his wounds and Harry's back no longer hurt him.  
  
"You and me, Hedwig," he said as he rolled the food into the rug, sealed it and floated it behind him. "We're in this together. We'll make it through somehow." By the sound of her hoot, Harry could tell Hedwig nearly had enough. He was determined to not give up and on he would walk.  
  
Were it not for the will to see someone, anyone, Harry might have already given up. Another thunderstorm rolled around, winter must be ending. He held his cloak over his head, which wasn't very good protection considering the water just leaked through it. At least they hadn't run into any more nasties since that balrog. He wondered what could have possibly happened to Bane, Ronan and Firenze... or did they just run off again. Funny that, he thought, thinking the centaurs would help him get out.  
  
With a very welcome giggle, Harry set off again into the forest, Hedwig on his shoulder.  
  
Before long, Harry was in familiar ground. Spiders were far more common than anywhere else and that could only mean one thing: Aragog. Aragog was a blind, very large spider that Hagrid had grown while he was at Hogwarts. Should Harry go and find Aragog? Or should be go look for the car that he and Ron smashed into the Whomping Willow and get himself out of here as fast as possible? There wasn't much thought that had to be put into it. The trail was nearby but he wasn't sure he could find it so he walked aimlessly.  
  
After a few minutes, the path he didn't wish to take was the one he ended up taking and in front of him stood the nest of Aragog and said spiders. The huge spiders, with their hairy legs and pincers, clicked madly as he stood only partially frozen this time. He had escaped becoming a meal for Aragog and friends and no doubt they would not be happy to see him again. Harry pulled out his wand as the spiders closed in. Aragog scuttled out from behind a vast web.  
  
"And what are you doing here again?" The fear that he had last time he was here was on vacation and Harry was almost perfectly calm, were it not for the terrible feeling that he might become breakfast.  
  
"I'm lost," said Harry flatly. At first, he was standing ready to fight but he now relaxed that position and stood willing to talk peacefully. Clicks from various spiders around him were none to appealing.  
  
"Lost?" croaked Aragog. "Tell me, human, what is your name?" A small grin crossed Harry's face.  
  
"Harry Potter," he said calmly. Aragog looked ready to faint but instead he called on another spider to close in on Harry and lifted his bangs with a pincer, causing Harry to become very aware of his fast and deep breaths. The spider scuttled back to Aragog and whispered something to him.  
  
"You do not lie," clicked Aragog. "How is it that you are lost?" Aragog moved away, clinging to the huge web. He called off the remaining spiders and they went back to various parts of the forest.  
  
Harry quickly explained the entire situation, the removal of the mark of ancients, how Voldemort had obtained it, how he had Apparated Harry and himself into the forest, how he attempted to kill Harry again with the Killing Curse and about the centaurs and their arrival and most mysterious disappearance. Harry could tell of a small sense of concern amidst Aragog's questions about how he managed to survive so far.  
  
"I want out," demanded Harry, "so I can see my friends again."  
  
"Tell me, Harry Potter, what ever happened to the creature in the Chamber of Secrets?"  
  
"It kidnapped a friend of mine so I went after it. While down there, a phoenix gouged it's damn eyes out and I killed it." Aragog looked almost impressed.  
  
"So - so the castle is safe?" asked the spider cautiously, clearly trying to hide the fact that he was grateful.  
  
"Yes," snapped Harry. "Now will you help me or should I run now?"  
  
"No," said Aragog. He fell back to the ground and advanced on Harry again, who wondered what this "no" meant. "I have heard of your good deeds. Hagrid has told me how you freed a house-elf, stopped He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, now twice, and rescued Sirius Black from wrongful imprisonment."  
  
"Voldemort-" started Harry, but...  
  
"SILENCE!" roared Aragog. "You shall not speak the name of that creature either."  
  
"Fine," said Harry stubbornly. "You-Know-Who is still alive and is probably trying to find something to help himself, if he even is weak, get back to power. Help me now," he added, wondering whether he should finish the sentence, "or I'll kill you where you stand."  
  
Aragog was taken aback by this threat. Harry didn't know whether he could actually kill the whole mess of spiders but desperacy had found it's way back to the front of his mind. He thought once more of simply falling dead asleep on his comfy bed in Gryffindor Tower, out for days on end; or running up to Cho (hoping she felt the same) and hugging her; and the biggest wish of all: being with the ones he loves. The forest was beginning to take a hit and for the second time in his life, Harry realized there was at least one person he could confide in. The cherished thought was beaten down when he remembered the state Sirius was to be in for the rest of his days.  
  
"What are you waiting for, Harry Potter-"  
  
"Please," interrupted Harry, "just call me Harry."  
  
"Do you wish me to grab you or would you like to climb on my back?"  
  
"The last time your henchmen grabbed me," said Harry feeling the animosity from their first visit, "I would have fainted had I not been held upside down. I'll take your back, thanks."  
  
Aragog bent down, laying as flat as he could, for Harry to climb on. The back of the spider was an extremely eerie feeling: furry yet able to disgust him at the same time. Better to move faster, Harry thought, because he might lose last night's dinner after all.  
  
Aragog did move very fast, about as fast as Harry imagined a spider of this size moving if it wanted to run. He was able to knock down loose branches with one whack of his pincers. The forest's trees forest became thinner and thinner.  
  
At last, at so very long last, there was a heart-breaking familiar sight ahead of them: Hagrid's hut.  
  
"Here you are, Harry," croaked Aragog. "May you succeed in killing He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," he added hastily as he scuttled back into the forest.  
  
Whether it was tiredness, or utter shock at finally getting out of the forest, Harry once again felt limp on the grounds inside the forbidden forest.  
  
"I'm out," he said vaguely as his body began to fail him. "Good." Muddy, but happy, Harry's head hit the ground.  
  
Half expecting to be laying inside the hospital wing, Harry's eyes opened when he felt consciousness creep back into him. He was still in the forest and the beautiful sight of Hagrid's hut, and Hedwig on the ground next to him, was still there as well. Harry scrambled to his feet, broke into a run to the hut and banged maniacally on the door.  
  
There was no answer. Strange? No, he reasoned, because Hagrid could simply be up at the castle. He ran at the very same speed to the castle doors and opened them with a charm because they were clearly locked. Not caring about that either, he ran through the corridors straight to the Great Hall to find it,  
  
"Empty," said Harry faintly. No surprise, really. Harry walked calmly, hiding the sudden feeling that all wasn't right, to Gryffindor Tower. The Fat Lady's picture was missing, as were all the other pictures he noticed, leaving the hole to the commons wide open. Had everyone been sent home and the school shut down upon word of his death?  
  
"Come on, Hedwig," he said, "we're going to find something so you can get a letter to someone."  
  
The closest office he knew of was Professor McGonagall's. He again ran to it, finding it was locked, then proceeded to simply break the door down. On her desk sat a quill, an ink bottle and several sheets of parchment. Harry perched Hedwig on the floor and wrote on the topmost piece of parchment feverishly. The look on everyone's faces when they knew he was alive flashed quickly across his eyes. He wrote:  
  
Whoever gets this first,  
I'm not dead, but for the first few days I wished I was. I woke up in a forest a lot scarier than the forbidden forest near Hogwarts. Don't ask me how I managed to get out, but after what had to have been at least a week, right now I'm at Hogwarts. Someone better come get me before I start climbing the walls.  
  
Harry Potter  
  
A small rubber band sat at a corner of the desk and a convenient piece of string stuck out of one of the drawers. Harry attached the mess to Hedwig's leg and thought for a moment who to send it to.  
  
The Dursleys? No way, they would leave him to rot in the forest and would be caught dead entering platform nine and three-quarters. Dumbledore? Ron? Hermione? McGonagall? He saw the balrog kill them. There's no telling if their parents moved and if the Weasleys or Grangers would ever believe Harry's letter. Trelawney? Fudge? Hedwig could spend weeks finding them. Sirius? Hedwig many never find him. Lupin? Snape?  
  
Dispirited, Harry pulled the letters off Hedwig's legs and slumped against a wall holding his legs to himself, head buried in his hands. Hogwarts is better than the forest, he told himself. He elbowed the wall hard, doing nothing but creating an excruciating pain in his elbow and relieving minimal amounts of stress. Harry sat there, sobbing in his hands, for several minutes.  
  
Gaining some resolution, he walked back to where the Fat Lady's portrait should be and walked inside the glorious Gryffindor common room. Absolutely relieved to be where he called home, he trotted up to his dormitory.  
  
The room was fully intact and all of his belongings were still there except the drawers had been emptied. His trunk had everything in it and was still sitting at the foot of his bed. It was probably Fudge's idea to not move it. He blushed at the thought of this room becoming a museum. Harry cleaned his clothing again as best he could (the stains were deep by now) because there was no telling how long he would spend here, if he would ever get out.  
  
He set the gauntlets down on top of his trunk, pulled the cloak off, flung it across the room and took off the now-gross sweater. The pants would have to make do as it was chilly enough without a shirt. Mud stains all over his cloak, pants and shirt were much worse now that he had a good look at it.  
  
Harry sat, home at last, on his own bed.  
  
He simply laid down with no other alternatives at the moment, hands folded behind his head, legs crossed, staring at the ceiling and in total glee to be safe. There was no escaping from the horrible truth that he had no one to contact.  
  
But it was then that the obvious hit him.  
  
"HOGSMEADE!" he bellowed so loud that Hedwig fell off the window ledge. Harry snatched his Dragonback. "Hedwig," he added, "you'll have to stay here. I'll come back for you." She hooted and stuck an apprehensive tail up at him about how long she might have to wait.  
  
Harry flew the Dragonback all the way out of the castle and headed towards the Hogwarts Express. He peered down. It was a gorgeous bird's eye view of the entire village of Hogsmeade. He hovered for a moment, staring down at all the fingers pointing up at him then landed in front of the Three Broomsticks.  
  
"Look!" cried one witch before he barely walked a foot. "Doris, look! I can't believe my eyes!" A witch he barely recognized from four years ago ran up to him and started shaking his hand.  
  
"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter. Do you remember me?"  
  
"No," he lied.  
  
"He survived the Dark Lord once again!" cried a wizard from down the block, obviously staring at him. Harry felt exactly like he did when Hagrid first brought him to the Leaky Cauldron: embarassed, happy and sad all at the same time from the attention. "This day must be cherished! Cherished forever!"  
  
Harry turned away after the maniacal wizard was done speaking and spotted something familiar. There was no mistaking the owner of that moleskin overcoat, especially considering the owner was several feet taller than everyone else.  
  
"HAGRID!" he roared over the crowd, running over. Quite a few heads turned and he ignored all the eyes that were now staring at him.  
  
"Harry!" he roared back. "Yer all right!" Hagrid pushed and shoved his way over to Harry, nearly knocking a few people down. "What happened?" Harry could see tears leaking out of Hagrid's beetle black eyes, disappearing in his tangled beard.  
  
"I don't know. One minute I was in a forest with Volde " - and Hagrid gave him a glare - "You-Know-Who and casted the Killing Curse on me and I woke up in the forest... Wait a minute," added Harry, "I thought that balrog killed you?"  
  
"Nope," said Hagrid, beaming. "Dumbledore managed to kill it before it got ter do the same ter us."  
  
"So he's alive?" asked Harry now with heavy breath, half smiling, half in tears. "Ron? Hermione? They're all alive?"  
  
"O' course!" Harry immediately remounted his Dragonback.  
  
"Hey!" called Hagrid. "Where ya goin'! Where -" but Harry was out of earshot. He was going to send Hedwig off to Ron and Hermione with the letters immediately.  
  
Hedwig swooped down to Harry's bed and he reattached the letters.  
  
"Hurry, Hedwig." She charged out the window and Harry lay on the bed again, staring up at the ceiling, waiting to fall asleep so Hedwig would arrive sooner.  
  
Harry was awoken some time later to find Hedwig slapping him with a wing. She brought back two letters with her. Harry peeled off one and began reading.  
  
Percy found mom out cold on the floor with your letter in her hand. We can't get there until tomorrow, the Hogwarts Express was shut down, too. You have no idea how happy we are to know that you're okay.  
Ron  
  
Harry put down Ron's letter and opened the other.  
  
OH MY GOD!  
Hermione  
  
Hermione's writing was so messy she must have written it quickly and then headed straight out the door. Relieved and tired, Harry put his shirt back on in case Ginny comes, put the letters on his dresser and went to laying in bed, waiting to fall asleep, dreaming about tomorrow.  
  
The very next morning, Harry woke up on his own at a very early time in the morning. Cursing the sun in his eye, he leapt out of bed and figured he would just sit at the train station in Hogsmeade. He took out his Dragonback from underneath his bed.  
  
Looking up, the skies seemed to be celebrating this day, too. The sun shined brightly overhead and a light breeze rustled his hair. After the short trip, Hedwig at his side, Harry simply sat where the train arrives and waited. 


	2. The Boy Who Lived

Chapter 2: THE BOY WHO LIVED  
  
After so long, Harry's eyes widened at the sight of the Hogwarts Express barreling down the track. He stood up, knocking Hedwig off his shoulder and ran over to the train, eyes watering, unsurmountable joy running through every part of him. When the train finally stopped, out came the Grangers and the Weasleys. Even the train driver came out. Harry didn't know who to run up to first but Hermione solved that problem.  
  
"Harry!" she screamed, running over and grabbing him tight. She then proceeded to go limp in his arms and she wasn't the only one.  
  
"Mom's fainted again," said George. He proceeded to slap Mrs. Weasley on the face to wake her up as did Harry to Hermione.  
  
"She did that once on the way, too," added Fred.  
  
"Had us worried sick as soon as Hedwig arrived!" cried Mrs. Weasley, blowing her nose and carrying a large box of tissues. "What happened? How are you? Are you hurt?"  
  
"I'm fine," he said, letting Hermione go. Both of them wiped away tears. "I woke up with my back killing me -"  
  
"Don't use the 'K' word," said Mrs. Weasley, looking ready to faint again.  
  
"Okay, hurting a lot." Harry proceeded to explain about the lonely week in the forest, how he managed to find an apple tree, the centaurs, the hut, Aragog and finally making it back to Hogwarts in one piece. Mrs. Weasley continued to cry through the whole story, screaming extra loud when he mentioned the centaurs leaving him and the balrog coming back for seconds.  
  
"I'm just happy to be with someone," said Harry through a bunch more tears. "Can I get something to eat? I'm starving." Mrs. Weasley took her turn at grabbing Harry. With friends at last, he reminded himself. Harry's heart leapt with joy at the realization that he had survived Voldemort once again. The entire wizarding world considered him dead for two months and the Dursleys were probably overcome with joy when they got word.  
  
Hogsmeade was alive and well when they stepped into town.  
  
"Can we hurry up," said Harry looking around at all the people pointing at him. "This never stops embarassing me." Embarassed he might be, but the feeling was blown away by constantly getting reminded he was no longer alone in that dreaded forest.  
  
Their pace picked up towards the Three Broomsticks. Mrs. Weasley made sure to find a quiet table in a far corner so they could talk in peace. Harry ordered butterbeer and a juicy steak then proceeded to the bathroom to wash his hands.  
  
"Steak?" said Hermione, as Harry walked back looking at him like he just killed the balrog again. "For breakfast?" Harry ignored her for a moment as he ripped a big chunk off with his bare hands and stuffed it in his mouth.  
  
"Hermione," he said, mouth full of food, "want to me stick you in that forest and let you survive?" Those words shut her up rather quickly. Fred and George sniggered.  
  
"Here," said Mr. Weasley, shoving a copy of the Daily Prophet under Harry's nose. The headline explained everything. "Read it aloud."  
  
HARRY POTTER DEAD  
SPECIAL REPORT  
  
A hearty shock ran through him at seeing his first obituary, taking quite a bit of time to run out (and it took a few minutes especially considering he ejected the food in his mouth right towards Mr. Granger).  
  
"Sorry," he said, and then "Ablutum," with his wand pointed at the small stain on Mr. Granger's shirt.  
  
"Understandable," said Mr. Granger, looking very much so as Mr. Weasley patted Harry on the back.  
  
One dreadful afternoon at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, reports Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, a collection of Death Eaters and several dementors Apparated directly on school grounds in the middle of a Quidditch game. Details are sparse but Albus Dumbledore reports Mr. Potter was seen to disappear.  
  
Harry would have asked if Dumbledore was alive again if he had not quickly caught himself. He could almost not believe himself that Dumbledore managed to kill that thing.  
  
It has been one month since the disappearance of Mr. Potter. Highly unfortunate and saddening but the Ministry of Magic presumes him dead. As you recall, fourteen years ago Harry Potter was responsible for the downfall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Only recently did he rise to power again. Thankfully, Mr. Potter left us with one last gift. Services will be held in Godric's Hollow on March 30th.  
  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy was shut down last week in light of recent events as well as due to a protest that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named might return.  
  
"Rumors say it was exactly like fourteen years ago," said Mr. Weasley. "He has no body and is weak. Voldemort's whereabouts are unknown. Put it out of your mind, Harry," he added smiling. Harry smiled too, slightly relieved. It took Voldemort three years last time and now it should it take longer, if it happens at all, given Voldemort failed twice in a row...  
  
"March thirtieth, is that this weekend?" he asked.  
  
"Yes..."  
  
"What do you say we go there?" asked Harry, wallowing in his own genius. It's not every day you get to crash your own funeral. You know, give them a bit of a surprise." Harry couldn't help but laugh along with everyone else.  
  
Mr. Weasley arranged Harry to stay at a room in the Leaky Cauldron (they arrived by Floo Powder, Harry's least favorite form of transportation). Tom, the landlord, offered it to them free of charge, delighted just to see Harry once again ("Welcome back, Mr. Potter!"). Hogwarts was shut down but only for one week and was poised to reopen in the middle of next week as if it was never shut down.  
  
But right now it was Tuesday and Harry stuffed his face like never before with any food he could get his hands on. Florean Fortescue, the owner of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, also very glad to see him, gave Harry a free sundae every time he passed by. The other hundreds of wizards and witches, who happened to get a glimpse of his forehead as the occassional breeze split his bangs in two, resulted in him being redfaced for the majority of his time exploring Diagon Alley.  
  
Harry took the grandeur amounts of free time to finish up a few essays and make sure the homework that he never got around to doing was finished to perfection. Not for one second did he think Snape would consider him dieing any excuse for not handing in homework. Too bad the balrog didn't finish Snape off, Harry thought to himself, as he put the final period down on "Spirit Potions: An Introduction." He grumbled to himself, as they had already finished Spirit Potions...  
  
One fine morning, Harry strode into Ollivander's on Hermione's request. There was a new section devoted to an old, yet newly refined invention, both at the same time.  
  
"Staves?" asked Hermione, staring at a rack full of three-foot-long boxes at the back of the shop. Ron was holding the exact same face. Harry, knowing nothing about wands, took his usual questioning stance.  
  
"Wizards of old used them," said Mr. Ollivander. "Very powerful, they are, yet hard to use at the same time." He opened a box to reveal a glorious staff made of silver. It's bottom ended in a dragon's tail and at the top, a pinkish crystal ball was held tight in place by three claws." The ball glittered and sparkled as Mr. Ollivander twisted it around.  
  
"Wingardium Leviosa!" he shouted, pointing the staff at the desk. To their wondrous amazement, the crystal ball lit up and the entire desk ripped right out of the floor, hovering a foot above it. He spinned it once very fast, causing a few papers to fall off the top but the majority stayed on. "These just help you focus. The core serves to aid with the magic of the creature from which it was taken. One can do magic without a wand or staff... but you need strong ability. The mark of ancients gave that to Harry in immense helpings. Wands are child's play compared to a staff."  
  
"How much do those things costs?" said Ron, gaping open-mouthed as Mr. Ollivander set the desk back down. Mr. Ollivander then strode around back to the rack of staves and placed the staff back in it's box, Ron's eyes following it back into it's resting place.  
  
"These come special order from Mr. Fudge. Ministry wants anyone who can afford one to have one. Quite a bit more useful than wands, I dare say. Mr. Potter, try to curse me," he added, taking the staff out again. Harry removed the nonchalant stare on his face. Ron looked upset at Mr. Ollivander having dodged his question.  
  
"Are - are you sure?" asked Harry.  
  
"Go right ahead," said the wand seller as if he merely asked Harry to pass him a quill. Mr. Ollivander held the staff out in front of him horizontally, gripping it with both hands.  
  
"Digitus verbero," said Harry, pointing the wand at Mr. Ollivander's mid section. Hermione clapsed a hand to her mouth as Mr. Ollivander spun the staff, ball facing up, stopping Harry's curse and then sending it off towards the ceiling.  
  
"Wicked," said Ron, thoroughly amazed. "Didn't need a spell!"  
  
"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named doesn't stand a chance against a group of five bearing a staff. Of course, I'm not allowed to sell these to underage wizards."  
  
Ron frowned.  
  
"Staves in the old days were several feet long," said Mr. Ollivander broodingly. "These are just elongated wands with the weak power of a crystal at their tip." He took a seat on a chair near the door and fixed Harry, Ron and Hermione with a pale stare.  
  
"Legends tell of a seven foot long staff," he continued. "At it's tip, a skunk's mouth held a pure white crystal in place. The skunk mouth was attached to the body of a squirrel and this made up the staff's handle, all the way down with a squirrel tail at it's end. No proof was ever found of it's existence. My colleagues and I believe it exists but woe become us if we learn of it's whereabouts."  
  
"Yeah," said Ron staring curiously at Mr. Ollivander's profile, "we're going now."  
  
"Goodbye," said Harry and Hermione together. As they left the shop, Ron broke out in crazy talk.  
  
"He's clearly gone insane," he spat. "My dad told me about that staff."  
  
"What's it called?" asked Harry curiously.  
  
"Don't know," said Ron flatly. "It's just a kid's tale to scare you when you go to bed. Never existed."  
  
"I respect Mr. Ollivander," said Hermione thoughtfully, "but I disagree about that staff. It's just a legend."  
  
Harry had a sudden feeling. As many times as he has been told something, it was usually the opposite. There was no reason to go seeking it, he reminded himself, the only thing on his mind right now was finishing the year up. Tickling the back of his mind was Sirius and his half-zombie state. Surely that would resolve itself before the year's up. Hopeless as it may seem, Harry assured himself Dumbledore would come up with some kind of miracle cure... right?  
  
Saturday morning came and they were to head off to Godric's Hollow. It was when they were heading to the Leaky Cauldron's fireplace that Harry had the mind-blowing realization that he had never been there since he was one year old. The place was burned down, however, so how were they going to get in?  
  
After Mr. Weasley, it was Harry's turn. They used floo powder.  
  
"Godric's Hollow," he said as clearly as he could, stuffing his glasses in his pocket, tucking his elbows in.  
  
Down the giant drain of fireplaces he went, spinning very fast. He tried to ignore the roaring of the fire but it was very hard, coupled with the whirl of green flames. The first time Harry tried floo powder he ended up in the hostile Knockturn Alley breaking his glasses, covered in soot.  
  
Finally, he saw Mr. Weasley waving at him and stepped out of the fireplace. He stood in the house he had only been dreaming about. There was absolutely no damage to it, indicating it must have been restored to it's former glory. Harry could see people lined up all over and many people on a staircase. The entire house must be full with wizards and witches.  
  
All around were hundreds of people he didn't recognize. He made sure to hide himself behind the Weasleys while thoroughly covering the scar with his bangs. At one end of the room, Harry could see the long white beard and hair of Albus Dumbledore talking to Cornelius Fudge and Minerva McGonagall.  
  
Not caring anymore about the reaction, he walked out from behind Mrs. Weasley and shouted across the room.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore!" The room went pin-drop quiet and Harry could feel the blood rushing to his face. Oops. Dumbledore whipped around immediately (along with the rest of the room) and behind the half-moon spectacles were eyes ready to rain tears, something very unusual for this wizard. Someone dropped their goblet near the stairs and a loud thump was notice someone had fainted.  
  
"Harry!" said Dumbledore. For a moment, it looked like time had stopped as no one was moving a muscle. The look of great surprise on Dumbledore's face suddenly turned normal again, to Harry's great relief.  
  
"So it happened again," said Dumbledore as he strode towards Harry.  
  
"What happened?" asked Harry.  
  
"It," he said softly. "The reason you got the scar." These words washed over Harry like a tidal wave. He had not even cared to think about how he survived and then he remembered the day fourteen years ago...  
  
"I dare say," continued Dumbledore, "there is still no explanation. More puzzling is that the mark of ancients has been removed."  
  
"Must we discuss this, Albus?" said McGongagall. "The world's greatest wizards and witches questioned it for years and are no closer to discovering anything about the scar than we are to recreating the staves of old."  
  
"I suppose," he replied, looking rather reluctant to stop the conversation. "A more pressing matter might be Harry's health."  
  
Dumbledore eyes glowed behind the half-moon spectacles and a smile erupted on his aged face. Harry explained to him exactly as he explained to the Weasleys and Grangers a few days ago. Everyone else in the room was quiet and listening hard over Harry's every word.  
  
"What condition was the forest in when you woke up?" asked Cornelius Fudge.  
  
"Destroyed," said Harry grimly. "Trees burned, missing branches... The ground was scorched and the grass was all black."  
  
"I need not say it's a great relief to find you alive, Harry. I could not believe my eyes when the Daily Prophet one month ago agreed with the Ministry that you had not survived. What kept you alive, twice now, must be very powerful magic indeed."  
  
"Who cares," said Harry slightly annoyed. "Voldemort," he continued, to quiet chattering of the crowd, "has to get killed so my life can get back to normal."  
  
"Come, Harry," said Dumbledore, the smile on his face staying put. "I think we'll have to celebrate the downfall of Lord Voldemort once again." Dumbledore's words always had a way of calming Harry down. Whether it was the radiant charisma or just what he had to say, it never failed and now was no different.  
  
Harry had to force back tears the entire time. He never stepped foot inside this house, his house... the house his life changed forever in. Dumbledore took him on a tour of it, showing Harry his parent's bedrooms, his own room, the bathroom (which he conveniently stopped to use) as well as the rest of the house.  
  
The celebration, which one wizard christened You-Don't-Know-Who's Day, lasted well into the next morning. The sun rising again didn't make Harry any more tired than the large amounts of butterbeer and food. It wasn't until Harry fell asleep a few hours later, which more than one person confused for a dead faint ("NO!" followed by lots of crying) that McGonagall suggested everyone go home.  
  
Harry slept the greater part of the next day, to be woken up by Ron pulling the pillows out from under his head (and then falling out of bed).  
  
"We have a few more days of freedom before Hogwarts reopens," said Ron as Harry scrambled to his feet. "There's going to be a mad rush on the train to get back."  
  
"When do we go back?" asked Harry, now groping around for his glasses.  
  
"Tuesday. All the teachers are there already." In two days, they would be boarding the Hogwarts Express again. Harry started to think he should ask Tom if he could spend the summer vacations in the Leaky Cauldron...  
  
Ron threw Harry's covers and pillows back on the bed as Harry stuffed his wand in his pocket. He got very used to the idea of not going anywhere without it... A staff would be nice, maybe a gold one made up of a Gryffindor lion and a red crystal ball held in it's mouth. But, of course, underage wizards aren't allowed to have one.  
  
"Hey," said Harry as he closed his trunk after pulling out a fresh pair of clothes, "where did they put Sirius?"  
  
"St. Mungo's," said Ron, fidgeting with his owl, Pigwidgeon, who had just swooped in with a worm in his mouth. "He's been a zombie ever since you disappeared," he added grimly. Harry's smile was immediately exchanged for worry. He then said something about dementors that made Ron jump ("HARRY!")  
  
"We should've left him in Azkaban," said Harry, overcome by guilt. "I'd rather him kill himself than live with half a soul." He slammed a fist on the trunk, as it wouldn't close, and heard something crack.  
  
Harry dug a hand into it to find the Sneakoscope Ron had given him two years ago cracked in several pieces. He was now doubly angry with himself for having broken Ron's birthday present.  
  
"Get all the pieces out," said Ron in a tone that was somehow supposed to calm Harry down. "Hermione can fix it." Harry collected the pieces and set them up on his bedside table. No doubt Hermione would stop by later in the day at Ron's request.  
  
Tuesday came after a very happy two more days, feeling very much like summer vacation. Still slightly angry at himself about both Sirius and the Sneakoscope, which Hermione handily repaired but it then fell apart an hour later ("Shame..."), Harry didn't talk to anyone unless spoken to first. He followed Ron and Hermione onto the train and they sat in an empty compartment. He also managed to sneak on the train unnoticed by anyone. Ron and Hermione were going on about Mr. Ollivander and his crazy staff. Harry didn't bother taking part in the conversation, his mind was on Sirius. 


	3. The Order of Merlin

Chapter 3: ORDER OF MERLIN  
  
From the minute Harry stepped foot in the Gryffindor common room, as he, Ron and Hermione were the last ones to get off the train, it was a sea of hands, fingers and arms. People left and right shouting "Harry, you're okay!" Harry's face turned as red as the apples he was eating back in the forest. He would have hidden himself, but there was no escaping the barrage of questions.  
  
"How'd you survive?!"  
  
"What'd you eat?"  
  
"Weren't there scary things?"  
  
"Can I just see your scar again?"  
  
"How many animals did you kill?"  
  
"Didn't You-Know-Who scare you breathless?" asked Dennis.  
  
"Yes," said Harry, "Voldemort did but he's out of power again." Colin Creevey's brother, Dennis, had taken Colin's death hard, avoiding Harry wherever he went. Harry found it a welcome change but Dennis looked to be back to stalking Harry again.  
  
When the common room finally cleared that night, Harry, Ron and Hermione were left alone.  
  
"I think I'm going to eat in the Great Hall only when it's mostly empty again," said Harry.  
  
"But you did that last year..." said Ron eyeing Harry sternly.  
  
"I know and I didn't have to get any weird looks."  
  
Classes were a very welcome distraction admist the newly started whispering in the hallways. It was highly remniscient of Harry's first year at Hogwarts.  
  
"He's over there, look."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"Next to the Weasley kid and the girl with the bushy hair."  
  
"He actually lived again?"  
  
"Does he still have the scar?"  
  
"They say he's a dark wizard."  
  
"Leave him alone!" shouted Hermione at a bunch of first years.  
  
"Harry's ex-girlfriend coming to his rescue?" snarled Malfoy from across the corridor.  
  
"No," whispered Harry in Hermione's ear and grabbing her cloak. Hermione looked ready to draw blood. Then he grinned and whispered, "Let me."  
  
Harry brandished his wand, parted his bangs so everyone could get a good look at the lightning shaped scar and walked menacingly towards Malfoy. There was a slight, yet unmistakable look of fear drawn a cross Malfoy's face. A few feet in front, Harry stopped and pointed his wand at him.  
  
"Draconus iciclia," said Harry softly. Not knowing whether the spell would work without the mark of ancients, Harry was very surprised to see a small blizzard of snow erupt from the tip of his wand. It swirled in the air for several seconds before forming into the familiar ice dragon. The look on Malfoy's face suddenly became one of great joy as the dragon pelted him in the stomach with tiny snowballs from it's mouth.  
  
"What are you smiling at?" asked Harry.  
  
"Good afternoon, Potter," said Snape coldly from behind Harry. His break in concentration caused the dragon to melt. Whatever joy Harry had in him fell out as he turned around slowly. There was a rancourous and twisted, broad smile etched across Snape's sallow face. "The rest of you head off to class," he ordered, "I want a word with our celebrity."  
  
That word tore through him like poison. "Harry Potter," echoed the memory, "our new -- celebrity... Tut, tut -- fame clearly isn't everything."  
  
"Why do you follow me around," said Harry, angrily stuffing his wand back under his robes.  
  
"I clearly remember you saying something. What was it?" The smile on Snape's face seemed to grow with each passing moment, basking in his animosity. "'My dad didn't strut,' you once told me, and neither do you."  
  
Harry threw a hand inside his robes, gripping his wand and kept telling himself, "If I attack him again, I'll get expelled," to prevent himself from doing it. He didn't hide the look of pure hatred that drew across his face. Their faces mirrored the looks of Sirius and Snape two years ago in the Shrieking Shack. Harry's wand hand was clearly trembling but Snape didn't take notice.  
  
"Did I not just see you strutting, Potter? Cross the hall menacingly towards Draco-"  
  
"He stalks me like you do," interrupted Harry, before he could stop himself.  
  
"Do not interrupt me when I am speaking," said Snape. His voice became a half shout. "I will be watching you, Potter, very closely until this year ends. I do think your success towards Lord Voldemort has gone to your head. Fifty points."  
  
Not caring to hear any more, Harry simply walked away. Perfect timing, as Snape's speech had ended at the exact same time. Harry entered lunch with a very strong urge to hit something.  
  
Hermione insisted that Harry and Ron study even harder for their O.W.L.s, which she handily reminded them were drawing nearer. Harry didn't try to listen to the voice in his head telling him he would be the first student to get no O.W.L.s but it had been becoming louder after each passing day. There were, however, a good three months left.  
  
All the professors rushed through the material they were supposed to cover during the week and a half hiatus. Snape was extremely bitter at having to cut his pain inducing potion lesson out entirely. Harry had a sneaking suspicion Snape might suggest he test it...  
  
All was going smooth in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Moody had started Necromancy, a subject which many students found interesting but he reminded the class that Dumbledore wasn't keen on the idea.  
  
He started the first lesson by bringing in a bunch of dead beetles. The class pored over to watch as Moody raised the beetles as tiny skeletons, the skin melting away as they got up. They danced across his desk for a minute until they collapsed, a heap of bone and dust.  
  
"It's quite impossible to raise anything bigger than beetles," said Moody. He let Harry smash the beetle skeletons with his fist so they can't rise again. Harry had a strong suspicion Moody found out about his arguement with Snape.  
  
"The focus of magic required is far too great for even a staff to handle," continued Moody. "Not to mention Necromancy is outlawed by the Ministry of Magic. Anyone found practicing it is immediately sent to Azkaban, no questions asked."  
  
Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid reached an all time scary high point one breezy afternoon. The sun was scared too, apparently, because it was hidden atop a set of thick clouds and the wind forgot to blow.  
  
"Come 'ere everyone!" said Hagrid as the Slytherins and Gryffindors approached. "I got summat great ter show yeh!" Hermione and Ron clutched either of Harry's arms as they slowly walked up to a humongous wooden box Hagrid had perched next to his cabin. Crabbe and Goyle did the same to Malfoy except Malfoy didn't walk.  
  
"Don' be afraid," Hagrid insisted. Harry and Malfoy watched in utter horror as their arm-clutchers hid behind their backs. Malfoy then proceeded to hide behind Harry. Whatever was in the box was so big it challenged the height of several Hagrids on top of each other. It was then that Hermione pointed out the thick metal bars running top to bottom and left to right across the box. Hagrid tapped each of them with his umbrella and they split in two, crashing to the ground. The box gave a jolt causing everyone to jump back a few feet.  
  
"I promise," said Hagrid, "no... I'll make sure the only one ter get hurt will be Malfoy." Malfoy could be seen ripping his arms from Crabbe and Goyle and running all the way back to Pansy Parkinson, who was nearly at the castle doors at this point. Whatever was inside the box jumped up and down, banging against the sides and growling.  
  
The only thing running through Harry's mind, and from the looks on Ron and Hermione's faces, theirs too, that the box's contents better be a lot tamer than it appears to be from the outside. The box's top caught fire. Everyone watched horrified as it melted under the extreme heat.  
  
Ron and Hermione let go of Harry's arms immediately when the contents were finally revealed.  
  
"Norbert!" shouted Hagrid.  
  
"Hagrid!" shouted Hermione back, staring both happy and nervously at the same time, "Dumbledore let you have him back?" Ron and Harry ran right up to the dragon. Harry turned around, grinning, at the look of horror that hadn't left anyone else's face yet. Norbert, the Norwegian Ridgeback Hagrid won off, unknowningly at the time, Voldemort, stood in all his, in Hagrid's view, glory. The dragon's skin was jet black, a stark contrast to it's orange eyes.  
  
The small horns Harry, Ron and Hermione once knew were now grand spectacles of deadly fun. Ron knew that from under Charlie's care, Norbert would be at least slightly more tame than a wild dragon. Sure enough, Norbert let Hagrid climb onto his back and the two of them rose a hundred feet into the air. Norbert secured Hagrid in place by pressing his humongous tail against his back, letting Hagrid grab onto it.  
  
Hagrid swooped back down and got off Norbert, looking happier than ever.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore got permission from and the Ministry of Magic ter let me keep him. I decided it would be a good ter have a lesson on dragons!" Harry wasn't so sure that was a good idea. Eventually the class crept up towards Norbert. The dragon seemed tame enough and kept his flame-belching to the air above him (Hagrid had fed him too many chickens and Norbert's stomach got upset...).  
  
The first to fly Norbert were Harry, Ron and Neville. Neville insisted Hagrid come with them but Hagrid insisted he wouldn't fit. Neville then asked to take Ron and Neville off but the two of them scowled...  
  
Up, up in the air they rose, grabbing onto Norbert's tail tightly. The dragon's flight was even more unsteady than the hippogriff Hagrid had brought two years back. Norbert's flapping wings caused them to rise up and down a minimum of ten feet but when Norbert wanted to move, his speed matched that of the Firebolt. Under Harry's direction, Norbert took them for a quick flight around the castle then landed as close to Malfoy as possible.  
  
Hermione, Seamus and Dean took the reigns as Norbert took them around a similar trip. By the class' end, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle hadn't gone within ten feet of the dragon. Hagrid, thanks to Mr. Fudge, was allowed to keep the very tame Norbert next to his hut. Charlie had assured Hagrid that Norbert had nearly grown to full size. Such was very comforting considering Norbert was borderline towering over the dragon Harry found himself facing last year, a Horntail. Come to think of it, Norbert's fire shot over fifty feet in the air. He was clearly a lot more dangerous than a Horntail but had become just as timid as Buckbeak.  
  
During lunch, Hermione kept going over what would happen if Norbert mis-aimed some fire breath and hit Hagrid's hut or the Forbidden Forest. Harry and Ron shuttered to think at the devastation a fire of that size would cause. Somewhere in the back of Harry's mind he knew it would happen. The worst always has since the first year he set foot in Hogwarts. Now, of course, they just needed to think of what to do if Norbert did such a thing...  
  
The trip to Hogsmeade that weekend, Hermione thought, would keep Harry in check. All three of them would sign up immediately on the list after one particular Transfiguration lesson.  
  
"As you recall a few months back," said Professor McGonagall, "you attempted to transform yourself into an animal. We will be trying again in this lesson. I expect nothing different from the last time. Some of you may be able to get a little more than smoke, however," she added, glaring at Neville and Ron. "The point is to see if there is any change as you've now had some more practice in Transfiguration."  
  
After several names (she had no long speech to give this time), McGonagall proceeded in the same order as last time.  
  
"Mr. Jordan, your turn." Lee walked to the front of the room casually. "Remember, wand out at your side, relax yourself, close your eyes, picture the creature and mutter 'Transformis Agito.'"  
  
Lee took one last look at the class before closing his eyes and hanging his head back. His mouth formed the words and with a puff of smoke, a jump of Neville and a shriek of Professor McGonagall, Lee managed to sprout the same one inch horn on top of his head.  
  
"No change from our last attempt... which is expected. Mr. Longbottom?"  
  
Neville was never too keen on getting up in front of the class. He took center stage after Lee removed his horn. Slightly different from last time, Neville managed to emit smoke from his ears.  
  
"It is an improvement, Mr. Longbottom," said McGonagall, reprovingly. "Miss Granger?"  
  
A direct copy of her previous attempt, Hermione grew a cat's tail and was able to move it was if it were her own. "Very nicely done, Miss Granger." She removed her tail as McGonagall called "Mr. Weasley" to the front.  
  
Ron, again, only managed to get smoke and mist but only out of his ears this time.  
  
"Again," she said reprovingly for the second time, "it is an improvement. Mr. Potter?"  
  
Ron took his seat, belittled again, folded his arms and rested his head on top of a pile of books. He tried hard not to cross eyes with Hermione. Harry took his place up front. "I'm not becoming the center of attention again," he told himself. What would be hard to transform into? It only took a few seconds: a dragon.  
  
Harry pulled his wand out and stood rigid. "Transformis Agito," he muttered under his breath. What happened next, he didn't have in mind.  
  
A blood-curdling, but weak, pain of skin tightening erupted all over his body causing Harry to drop on all fours, feeling ready to throw up. His skin was hardening and at the same time, a weak pain of pins protruding all over mixed with the tightness. It was mildly painful and had stopped as soon as had started. Harry put a hand out and stood up.  
  
"Whoa!" exclaimed Lee.  
  
"As little of the transformation as you achieved, Mr. Potter," said McGonagall, looking very blue in the face, "that's equivalent to transforming into a much smaller creature!"  
  
When Harry's eyes stopped wincing in attempts to keep his breakfast, he opened them and gazed at his arms, jumping at the sight. His skin had become jet black, accompanied by scales. He then coughed. Sparks of flame shot out of his mouth onto his hands, not even singing them. He had done a partial transformation into a dragon.  
  
"Can you get rid of it now?" asked McGonagall. Last time Harry tried to reverse a transformation, he remembered, he had fainted. This fact lodged in his mind, he was determined not to repeat it.  
  
One last look at the two inch claws that grew from his fingernails and he stood rigid again, picturing his normal self to get rid of the dragon skin. Harry took a few moments to assure himself all would go as planned.  
  
"Please, please, please work," he said to himself and then "Transformis Agito," he muttered again. Another blood-curdling feeling erupted all over but this time it was the stretching of skin. He managed to stand his ground, queazy for the entire ten seconds.  
  
When his eyes opened, it had worked. He was back to normal.  
  
"Strange," said Professor McGonagall, curiously rolling up Harry's sleeves to make sure the transformation was complete. "Very strange..." She set his sleeve straight, took a few steps back and looked at him up and down one last time.  
  
"We may have to register you as an Animagus." Harry was pleased at the tone of laughter in her voice and very happy he hadn't made a repeat of last time. "It takes about four years for one to manage a complete transformation," she added. "Not to mention these transformations aren't complete to begin with. It would wear off within a few days. A real Animagus can keep his or her form forever."  
  
When McGonagall finally deemed class over, Harry, Ron and Hermione took the opportunity to sign up for the Hogsmeade trip. That weekend, all third years and up headed down to Hogsmeade for the weekend. Harry, still angry at himself about Sirius and now with Snape watching him like a hawk in the hallways ("Where are you going Potter, your class is that way" Snape would say, many times, as Harry headed to the bathroom), could not find an escape more welcome.  
  
"Did you hear?" said Hermione as they sat in the Three Broomsticks (among more people staring at Harry ominously).  
  
"Hear what?" asked Harry curiously.  
  
"Fire Quidditch!" said Hermione excitedly. "They're hosting it again where they were last time except now it's going to be held some time in July." Ron howled in laughter as he remembered something.  
  
"Dad told me that the United States was so upset at their loss they wanted a rematch, hoping Harry would play again!" At those words, Harry turned red again.  
  
"You out of your mind?" said Harry stiffly.  
  
"Oh, go on," said Ron in more of a whine than he probably intended. "No one died last game. The popularity rose a little so they have more players signing up to be on a team. They have three now, Germany joined the runnings. They're not changing the rules this time. I think dad said that they want to see if the constant rule changing was finally successful in preventing deaths. By the way, now everyone has a slightly updated Firebolt they call the Fireball." Harry caught himself in a grin.  
  
"Not Dragonbacks?" he said. Harry drank deeply from his extra large goblet of butterbeer.  
  
"No," said Ron, grinning too. "Couldn't afford a single one because they're in such short supply. The Fireballs are only slightly faster at accelerating than the Firebolts, one hundred and seventy five miles per hour in ten seconds instead of one hundred and fifty."  
  
"The Dragonback does two hundred in nine," said Harry, some butterbeer dribbling down his lip. He wiped it with a finger then rubbed it on the table cloth. "Top speed of just under three hundred."  
  
"There'll be a bigger turnout this time," said Hermione. "The Daily Prophet mentioned it just yesterday. The United States is playing Germany first. The winner goes on to play England."  
  
"I don't know..." said Harry. He recalled the time he played in a game several months back. The United State's seeker, one Thantanos Brev, had pulled his broom out from underneath him causing Harry to fall one hundred feet. Harry did manage to get the Snitch, but he broke four ribs. He later found out Brev was a Death Eater and had been sent to try to kill Harry...  
  
"What if someone tries to kill me again," he said, taking a quick sip, "and I don't have the mark of ancients anymore."  
  
"The Death Eaters disbanded again," said Hermione comfortingly. "Bunch of them were sent to Azkaban, or at least the ones that didn't get killed two months ago."  
  
"Didn't get Crabbe, Goyle or Malfoy, did they?" asked Harry hopefully.  
  
"No," said Ron angrily. "Stupid gits got off thanks to Malfoy. Dad told me he threatened someone. I don't know how he does it." Ron tipped his goblet back too far and coughed, butterbeer dribbling out of his mouth.  
  
"Don't get yourself all upset," insisted Hermione. "He'll get what's coming to him."  
  
"Yeah," said Harry and Ron in unison.  
  
"Let's just hope it's soon," added Harry. He swallowed the last drop and glanced a few more times at Ron and Hermione before saying, "I guess I'll play." Ron's face lit up with joy.  
  
"Great!" he said, beaming. "You have to let Madam Hooch know when we get back. She has to go tell the Fire Quidditch Committee."  
  
"Speaking of Quidditch, Ron, how many games do we have left?"  
  
"Two," he replied, sitting back importantly in his chair. "Hufflepuff sent Slytherin back to the drawing board so they're out. Snape was moping for a week. It's just pure luck Gryffindor hasn't had a game to play since..." His voice broke off and he shifted uneasily. "We have to play Hufflepuff once and win. Then Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw go at it and we match up against whoever wins. I think we're playing Hufflepuff in two weeks. That gives you a chance to get back into practice."  
  
"Think we'll take the cup for the second year in a row?" said Harry grinning ear to ear.  
  
"I don't think it, I know it," said Ron determinedly.  
  
Very unexpected, but not unwelcome, he forced the team on a practice schedule much on the likes of Oliver Wood. Ron made everyone get up before breakfast, waking up Neville, Dean and Seamus every time, three days a week. Harry walked around much like Sirius in the wee hours of the morning until he climbed onto his Dragonback, the wind or rain waking him far better than Ron smacking him with pillows.  
  
Practices had been going extremely well. Harry managed to catch the Snitch once every few minutes (it was far easier than Fire Quidditch). Kylie Randal and Ron, the Beaters, hadn't managed to improve their Quaffle-hitting accuracy. It was hard enough aiming the Bludgers at the Quaffle in the first place...  
  
Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff was an amazing success. Harry's first glimpse of the Snitch sent him barreling after it, arms outstretched, victory in his eyes and he caught it in -  
  
"ONE MINUTE!" shouted Madam Hooch. "My goodness, the previous record was set by you and that was five minutes!"  
  
It was the shortest Quidditch game in the history of the sport. Hufflepuff drudged off the field in their canary robes, moaning something about "that blasted Dragonback." The Gryffindor team took the large amounts of time to praise Harry and his broom. Several people asked if they could just look at it, acting like it was a piece of untouchable gold.  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione's studies for their O.W.L.s continued unabated. Under all the pressure from being out of school for almost two months (and word getting around that Sirius had not once woken up from his zombie state), Harry still felt he was going to get the least amount of O.W.L.s of anyone. Ron repeatedly assured him, that under Hermione's watch, he was going to get more O.W.L.s than Malfoy at least. The thought, comforting as it should be, didn't block out the fact that while the day before he knew everything about magical swords and how to enchant them, Thursday morning during breakfast he couldn't remember that a lightning enchantment is the hardest to do. They covered enchantments, but never got to do one.  
  
"Elemental enchantments make the target act like whatever you enchanted it with," said Hermione. "If you enchant a quill with fire and then write with it, the paper will catch fire."  
  
"And you... can... see the enchantment?" asked Harry, not sure if he was correct.  
  
"For the last time... NO!"  
  
It looked hopeless.  
  
Hufflepuff played Ravenclaw three weeks later (fifth years were to take their O.W.L.s the day after finals). Hufflepuff again went back to their dormitories after suffering a large defeat - Ravenclaw won by almost three hundred points. Luckily, Madam Hooch gave Gryffindor a time bonus of fifty because of Harry's amazing catch, giving them two hundred points for their win. That meant they would only have to win against Ravenclaw by one hundred and sixty points.  
  
Three weeks after that, Gryffindor played Ravenclaw.  
  
"Angelina Johnson scores!" shouted Dean Thomas, who had become commentator after begging Professor McGonagall. Dean elected himself to take over the late Lee Jordan's position of Quidditch commentator. The only other person who offered was in Slytherin and Professor McGonagall quietly refused Pansy Parkinson the job. "Ravenclaw seeker Cho Chang needs to stop Harry Potter from catching the Snitch or they will win the Quidditch Cup for the second year in a row!"  
  
"Hello, Cho," said Harry as Cho made her way behind him. "Better be faster than that," he added grinning ear to ear, stopping mid flight.  
  
And then, several hundred feet above Harry, as small as a speck of dust, there it was.  
  
Victory in his eye, Harry put a hand on the front of the Dragonback, one in the middle then pressed himself flat against his broom, aiming straight up. Cho didn't have a chance on her broom. Almost two hundred feet in the air, the tiny Snitch hit Harry in the stomach and was pinned as he rose higher and higher. He clawed it off of himself and held it high in the air with a free hand. Pulling out of the climb, he saw Ron, Katie, Craig, Angelina and Alicia rushing over, their brooms struggling at the staggering height.  
  
"Gryffindor wins the Quidditch Cup!" shouted Madam Hooch.  
  
Twelve pairs of hands grabbed every free inch of Harry. He was made deaf by the loud yelling coming from the stadium as Gryffindor supporters once again flooded onto the field. Harry gave the Dragonback one last huge burst of speed sending everyone barreling towards the ground (ignoring the screaming) and straightened out, to land softly on the ground.  
  
Two years ago, Gryffinor won the Cup for the first time since Charlie Weasley had been Seeker and now they had done it again for the second year in a row. Hermione and Hagrid ran down onto the field, with Hagrid trying to say something but just wiping his eyes with a tablecloth that he was using as a napkin. His beetle black eyes took on more of a grayish color from all the tears.  
  
Professor McGonagall was once again up in the stands holding a huge Gryffindor flag, sobbing relentlessly into it. The best sight of all, next to Dumbledore walking over with the enormous, silver Quidditch Cup, was Ron. He had still not let go of Harry's shoulder, raining tears and soaking Harry's robes worse than the rain at their last practice. It had been Ron's dream since four years ago to win the Quidditch Cup and with him on the team, Harry would have it no other way.  
  
Gryffindor's euphoria lasted until finals. Snape put on an extra coat of nastiness and it didn't look like it was ever going to end.  
  
"Potter and Granger, Longbottom has managed to mess up his potion for the third class in a row. Twenty points from all three of you."  
  
Neville then dumped his cauldron all over the floor in protest.  
  
"Twenty more points from you Longbottom... and a detention."  
  
"I don't know how much more of him I can take, Hermione," whispered Harry in her ear. "When are we going to finish up these stupid potions classes?"  
  
"We have to take it all seven years," she replied, rolling her eyes at Snape behind his back.  
  
"So let me get this straight," said Ron, "we just lost eighty points?"  
  
Harry grudingly dumped his cauldron's contents into a tiny cup.  
  
"Are these slobs of cream really supposed to make scars disappear?" asked Harry.  
  
"I doubt it'll make yours disappear," said Hermione.  
  
"Let's find out." Harry took a fingerfull, parted his bangs and rubbed a nice, thick coat of it over the lightning-shaped scar.  
  
"OUCH!" he shouted, stumbling backwards and falling off the chair. The cauldron's contents fizzled leaving a strong burning sensation.  
  
"Potter, you idiot," said Snape, rolling his eyes.  
  
"I want to hurt him," said Harry softly, standing the chair up and getting back on it. "I want to hurt him a lot."  
  
A few weeks later, finals had come around and O.W.L.s were due to be taken in two days. Hermione kept Harry and Ron locked up in the library studying ferociously from after breakfast up until dinner. It was almost more than Harry and Ron could take but Hermione assured the two that they would get at least ten, twelve or higher being very likely.  
  
O.W.L.s came... O.W.L.s went... All fifth years were to get their results back during the Leaving Feast by owl post, something Harry had again been dreading. He expected a record low number of O.W.L.s mostly due to the fact that he was stumped for a majority of the exam...  
  
"Thirty six!" shrieked Hermione. "I got thirty six!"  
  
"I got twelve," said Ron, carefully eyeing the parchment Pigwidgeon dropped.  
  
"I got six," said Harry dully. He gave Hedwig a piece of bread and she flew off.  
  
"She got more than both of us combined!" yelled Ron. "Cheer up, Harry," he added, turning to look at Harry's abysmal O.W.L. report. "We go home - er..."  
  
It took Ron a few seconds to remember that Harry's home life was nothing to look forward to.  
  
"It would be something to look forward to if I could go home with Sirius but no we had to try and rescue him and a dementor nearly sucked his soul out." Harry dropped his fork in protest and rested his chin on both hands. "At least the Dursleys won't care that I got so little. How many did Malfoy get?"  
  
"You don't want to know," said Ron, looking at the Slytherin table and seeing Malfoy jumping up down, all dignity forgotten.  
  
"Feeling down, Potter?" said Snape as he crossed the Gryffindor table.  
  
"GO - AWAY," shouted Harry sharply.  
  
"Even Mr. Longbottom managed to scrape eight," said Snape coldly.  
  
Harry didn't reply.  
  
"Have a nice day," Snape added nastily.  
  
"How many points has he taken from us this year?" asked Harry angrily when Snape was out of earshot.  
  
"Too many," said Ron just as dull as Harry. "But we have a lot of points from Quidditch games. What," he added, starting to think what Harry was thinking. "Oh no!"  
  
"We're not going to win the House Cup this year, are we," said Hermione quietly.  
  
"Attention, please?" called Professor McGonagall from the teacher's tables. Dumbledore was to give his end of year speech.  
  
"This year has finally come to a close," he said, standing up and gazing all around the Great Hall. All the noise died down very quickly. "This terrible and dreadful year... The Ministry will greatly protest my coming words but I feel a need to say them.  
  
"As I have mentioned last year, Lord Voldemort has returned, or at least did for a short while. During his short reign he has managed to kill hundreds more. Several dozen were removed from that count by someone who's name I need not mention. In an attempt to find out Lord Voldemort's plans, Mr. Potter had Disapparated several Muggles to safety. Worst of all, our greatest fears had nearly come true two short months ago, that Mr. Potter had died."  
  
Just as it had happened last year, a ripple of murmurs broke out across the Great Hall.  
  
"Whether it be an extraordinarily strong will to live to see Lord Voldemort punished for all his heinous crimes or dormant magic that continues to puzzle the greatest wizards and witches of our time, there is no doubt Mr. Potter must be congratulated. I raise my glass once again to you, Mr. Potter." He turned to face Harry, who had gone flush in the face. Everyone else followed suit with Dumbledore.  
  
"I feel it it necessary to bring forth this information in case it is needed. Lord Voldemort's whereabouts are currently unknown but his status is known to be exactly like it was fourteen years ago. The Ministry of Magic is doing everything possible, including cooperating with International Muggle law-enforcement, to find Lord Voldemort. We shall, of course continue the memory of the first among us to go down marking the start of Lord Voldemort's downfall. Continue to remember Cedric Diggory."  
  
All of Hufflepuff, once happy, immediately became sour. Cedric's death struck a grim chord with the entire school and it was easy to notice they had not forgotten.  
  
"If we, for one moment, forget all we have lost, a will to succeed will be lost as well."  
  
These words struck a grim chord with Harry. Gone was the short time in his life with his parents and the faint memories that he collected of them over the years nearly vanished as well.  
  
"Go home tomorrow morning knowing that Lord Voldemort will be found and let it rest in the back of your mind as we award this year's House Cup." He paused for a few minutes to let the whispers of Harry's name die down.  
  
"In fourth place, Slytherin with three hundred and fifty two points." Faint boos were coming from the Slytherin table while the entire Gryffindor table got up clapping.  
  
"In third place, Gryffindor with three hundred and fifty three points." Harry had not moved from his dull position of resting his chin on both hands. Hermione and Ron were now copying him as loud cheering erupted from the Slytherin table.  
  
"In second place, Hufflepuff with four hundred and nine points. As such, that leaves Ravenclaw in first place, with four hundred and eighteen points!"  
  
For the first time since he entered the Great Hall, Harry smiled, turning around to see Cho and her friends celebrating their win. Gryffindor had taken it every year since Harry's arrival. A small but noticeable grumble in his stomach made him feel happy for Cho. A bigger and more noticeable grumble reminded him he was angry with himself. At least Slytherin was in last place...  
  
"We are, however," said Dumbledore, beaming, "not finished with the awards yet. Mr. Fudge, would you like to take over?"  
  
Cornelius Fudge had been sitting next to Hagrid. He got up from his seat and held a beautiful, though barely visible from where Harry was sitting, golden necklace with a small plaque dangling from it. It sparkled subtly in his fingers. On the table in front of him was also a large plaque with a name written on it that couldn't be made out.  
  
"It with great pleasure that I get to offer two awards this evening," he said jovially, beaming at everyone. "One of them is an Award for Special Services to the School. This one is first.  
  
"By virtue of excellent scores on exams, topping grades for the past century and a record number of O.W.L.s attained by a fifth year student, Miss Hermione Granger, please come forward!"  
  
She went as pale as the white napkins she used to wipe the tears from her eyes. Full of tears and overcome with joy, Hermione freed herself from the hands of the Gryffindor table, many of which she shook, and walked to Fudge who had moved to the center of the staff table.  
  
Fudge turned the large plaque towards her and the name was clearly visible: Hermione Granger. Harry showed a brief smile, still completely saddened that Gryffindor had not won the House Cup due to Snape, among other things ripping at the back of his mind.  
  
"The Ministry of Magic presents to you, Hermione Granger, an Award for Special Services to Hogwarts! Oh and I believe Gryffindor gets awarded twenty five points?" he added smiling.  
  
Hermione sat down, now sobbing lightly, looking up and down the Gryffindor table and Fudge went back to gazing around the room. Gryffindors up and down the table were clapping not only for Hermione but for the twenty five points they just won. Fudge then held up the necklace, which sparkled brightly in the candlelight. Were they going to get more points? It happened once before...  
  
"Last but not least, I have an Order of Merlin, First Class to give out!" A raucous roar of chatter spread across the Great Hall. Who would be getting it? Hopefully not Snape... and Dumbledore had already gotten one, Harry thought. An Order of Merlin, First Class, it boggled Harry's mind for a good minute. That would require something very significant... nobody came to his mind. The Great Hall fell silent, waiting with bated breath. Harry shook his head, waiting.  
  
"By virtue of good deeds and services to the Wizarding World as a whole, bravery, friendship and courage, among everything else that makes up a true Gryffindor..."  
  
Gryffindor? Mr. Fudge paused and it was like torture waiting for the name. He gazed up and down the table looking for anyone with a guilty face.  
  
Who!  
  
And then, the smile fell off his face. Quite suddenly, Harry had an urge to run, an overpowering feel that the person to get it would be...  
  
"I cannot think of anyone who deserves it more... Mr. Harry Potter, would you please come forth!" A sudden burst of heat filled Harry's insides, very much on the verge of causing him to pass out.  
  
The Great Hall burst in louder clapping than it had after the Sorting Hat had placed Harry in Gryffindor, so loud it somehow managed to make the rumbling in Harry's stomach seem a little quieter. Harry couldn't tell the difference between the mixed feelings of embarassment, shock and pure joy because they were all there in equal amounts.  
  
"Oh God," he groaned softly, staring up at Fudge, his face white in utter shock.  
  
Harry wanted to say something else, but his voice seemed to have left him along with the insides of his stomach. If his head wasn't already resting on the table, he would have passed out from lack of blood to the brain. It was the shock that seemed to be taking over at the moment. He stiffened up, not moving a muscle and continued to stare at Mr. Fudge, who was dangling the necklace at Harry.  
  
"Go on, Harry!" said Ron. Ron pulled Harry's very, very stiff shoulders back to make him sit up straight and then Hermione had to put a hand behind his back to prevent him from falling backwards. Harry pushed himself out of the Gryffindor table amongst the outstretched hands trying shake one of his own.  
  
He didn't shake any of them as he walked up to the staff table where Fudge was, he felt so queazy that if he turned his head at all, he might just pass out. His legs shook in an effort to keep him standing but he was more interested in wiping away the few tears leaking down his cheeks. And then after what seemed like another week in the forest, he finally made his way to Fudge.  
  
"For all your services: the deafeat of Lord Voldemort twice, for killing a basilisk and freeing an innocent man from Azkaban, The Ministry of Magic presents to you, Harry Potter, the Order of Merlin, First Class!"  
  
"First?" he had to ask, digging a nail into his thumb to assure himself he wasn't dream. It was just unreal.  
  
"Youngest person ever to receieve it," whispered Fudge, winking. Then he said outloud, "Gryffindor is also awarded seventy five points! I believe that places them at four hundred and fifty three?"  
  
It wasn't a dream and the full reality didn't set in until he removed the golden necklace and read the plaque after dinner that night.  
  
Harry James Potter  
Order of Merlin  
First Class  
  
"If this is what you get," said Harry, still looking very pale, arms still shaking whenever he held the necklace, "why doesn't anyone wear it?"  
  
He placed it on top of his trunk, watching it glitter from the moonlight. It was just wide enough to fit his full name. The lettering was done with white gold and the rest was yellow gold.  
  
"Probably don't want to dirty it up or something," said Ron, gazing at it. "Or lose it. Or just think it'd make them look self-centered. I bet most everyone locks it up in a safe and throws the key away. I'd sure wear one if I got it."  
  
There was an obvious note from Ron that he was jealous. Harry and Hermione had gotten an award, but Ron was left with nothing. Harry couldn't help but feel some pity but tried to hide the feeling as Ron has subtly made known he doesn't like anyone feeling sorry for him. There was nothing Ron had done, however... and that was what made Harry feel bad. Harry had always wished Ron could share in his own glory, or better yet... that Harry never got any to begin with.  
  
"I still can't believe it." Harry began to change into pajamas behind the four-post bed's curtains.  
  
"D'you think Hermione is going to lock her award in a safe?" chortled Ron.  
  
Harry, too, chortled at the thought. It was just the thing Hermione would do. He finished changing and reopened the curtains then stuffed his dirty robes in a corner.  
  
"Of course." He crawled into bed to lay on his back and pulled the covers snugly over himself. "We only have two years left after this, Ron," said Harry, slightly dreamily. "Can you believe it?"  
  
"Go to bed!" cried Neville. Harry and Ron must have woken him up.  
  
"Fine," said Ron and Harry stiffly. 


	4. One Last Gift

Chapter 4: ONE LAST GIFT  
  
With a sad face the next morning, Harry finished packing his trunk, stuffed Hedwig in her cage and removed all his belongings from all over the floor around his bed. He pulled the Order of Merlin necklace out of his trunk and stuffed it inside a pocket. The Hogwarts Express was leaving in ten minutes but Snape saw fit to pull Harry aside in the entrance hall as he was leaving.  
  
"Before you go, Potter -" he began, but,  
  
"What d'you want?" said Harry angrily.  
  
"Madam Pomfrey and Albus wish to tell you something," said Snape as if Harry never spoke.  
  
"What is it?" he asked a little more politely.  
  
"Just go," said Snape pointing inside the Great Hall.  
  
Harry shot Snape one last nasty look and stepped inside but as soon as he did, his mouth fell open: Sirius was standing next to both Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey.  
  
Harry's nasty look reserved for Snape immediately became a smile and he broke into a run towards Sirius, his hands instinctively dropping the bags he was carrying by the door. There was nothing better to see right now, Harry thought, than the face he recognized from his photo album, flush with color and smiling.  
  
"You're awake!" was the only thing he could think to say. Madam Pomfrey held up a small vial with a purplish, oozing liquid inside it but Harry only caught a glimpse of it because he ran straight at Sirius, wrapping his arms around him.  
  
"Soul-Saver Potion," said Madam Pomfrey -- Sirius was preoccupied with Harry squeezing him. "Severus and I have been reading up on it ever since Albus suggested it."  
  
"The forumla is in a new revision of Moste Potente Potions," said Dumbledore winking at Harry. He, Ron and Hermione had swiped a copy of Moste Potente Potions in their second year to create a Polyjuice Potion. It was obvious from the look on Dumbledore's face that he had since found out.  
  
"I have to take it in the morning," said Sirius. "Lasts an entire day which is very good and there's more good news." Harry finally let go. "Albus thought I should spend summer vacation with you."  
  
Harry looked at Dumbledore who simply winked. "Where are we staying?" asked Harry.  
  
"The bad news is that I need watching over so I can't stay alone. We have to go back to your aunt and uncle's." Harry groaned then suddenly smiled.  
  
"They won't be too happy," he chuckled.  
  
"They'll have to get used to it. They've already been explained the situation and agreed to it. The potion stays good for an entire year so I'm taking a big batch Severus left. And yes, I was on Muggle news so they no longer think I'm a murderer," he added.  
  
"You'll see how they usually treat me the minute we get there," said Harry at once. "I hate them."  
  
"If all goes well, the potion will eventually connect me with the rest of myself (believe me that sounds just as strange to you as it does to me) and I'll immediately start looking for a house." Harry grinned from ear to ear. "Come on," said Sirius, patting Harry on the back, "get your things. The train's leaving soon."  
  
Harry deliberately took a compartment next to Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, knowing they would be cringing with Sirius next door. Sirius had not known anything about Voldemort's appearance so Harry, Ron and Hermione spent the entire time explaining everything. When they got to the part about Harry's supposed death, Sirius let out a yell so loud that Malfoy jumped and broke something.  
  
"And look what I got last night at the Leaving Feast," said Harry, getting out the Order of Merlin necklace from his pocket.  
  
"That was inevitable," said Sirius, smiling at it. Harry just sat there, gauking at it. The shock in his eyes returned and he stared blankly, mouth half open. "Go on," Sirius added, "wear it."  
  
"I-" began Harry but he was choking over the words. "You- can't... they really did, didn't they?"  
  
Harry was holding the necklace up in front of his face with both hands. Hermione got up from her seat and took it from his hands and placed it over his head. The chain was just long enough to place the plaque right over his heart. It took a minute to remember that he had actually gotten an Order of Merlin, First Class... and that he was wearing the necklace... and that it actually said First Class... and that his name, his very own name was written on it (it had a nice ring to it, "Harry James Potter" he thought to himself)... and that it wasn't a trick or a dream and that...  
  
Harry's hands were still in front of him until Hermione slapped him.  
  
"Thanks," he said finally, shaking his head. "Needed that."  
  
"I expect he'll be doing more of that," whispered Hermione to Sirius. She didn't intend for Harry to hear, but he did... but he didn't bother replying, either -- it would probably be true.  
  
The conversation about recent events didn't last that long and eventually Harry started to feel sleepy. He opened the window, a cool breeze blowing in his face. Harry rested his head on a pillow up against the wall of the train... His eyes would no longer stay open...  
  
"Death become that boy when I come across him," said the cold voice of Voldemort.  
  
"M-master, he has lived twice now!" cried the quivering voice of Wormtail. Neither of them were visible and in fact nothing was visible through the blackness of their surroundings.  
  
"I know," said Voldemort loudly, "and I don't need your patheticness to remind me..."  
  
"H-how then can we revive you?" A mass of Death Eaters came into view. "The boy will have g-great protection, s-surely we can't simply-"  
  
"Silence."  
  
A bright streak of light shined down as a few dark figures overhead moved -- they were tree branches. Voldemort, Wormtail and several Death Eaters were standing (in Voldemort's case, he must have been the thing inside a bundle of robes on the ground) deep in a forest. Wormtail looked scared, very scared... almost too scared in his spot. His legs were visibly shaking and every word he spoke was pitched higher and higher.  
  
Voldemort merely shook his head in disgust.  
  
"W-what, m-master?" Wormtail crawled along the muddy ground to a heap of cloth and robes.  
  
"Please get away from me as there is enough filth from the ground without you near."  
  
There was a long pause in which Wormtail could be heard quivering on the ground. He kissed the bundle of robes on the ground. Voldemort's state was what it had been fourteen years ago. Harry recognized the same bundle of robes he had seen some horrific travesty of a human baby in two years ago. He had no body then and needed constant watch. His followers this time, however, looked to be right at his side. Voldemort would grow to power far faster the third time around...  
  
"WE NEED IT, WORMTAIL!" said Voldemort loudly. "YOU WILL HELP! YOU WILL NOT FAIL ME! - if you follow what I have told you correctly..."  
  
"I will, master," said Wormtail, "I will..."  
  
"You will what?" asked Voldemort suddenly, sharply and loudly. "You will fail me?"  
  
"No, my Lord!" pleaded Wormtail, "I won't fail!"  
  
"If you do, Wormtail, you know what's coming..."  
  
And Voldemort laughed coldly, causing a weak pain in Harry's scar to wake him up as the Hogwarts Express slowed down.  
  
This was all a misty cloud in his mind. As Sirius looked to see if he was up when the train stopped, Harry must have been so tired, he had not retained any of it as he tried to remember the interesting dream he had. The only reminder was the weak pain in his scar which he knew by now to not hide from anyone.  
  
"What's wrong?" said Hermione.  
  
"My scar," said Harry slightly worried. "It hurts a little bit."  
  
"What! Oh come on!" exclaimed Ron. "You-Know-Who was blasted again! How can your scar hurt?" Harry shook his head.  
  
"Are you ever going to say his name? Especially now that you've seen him face to face."  
  
"Forget you," said Ron flapping his hand.  
  
"Do they always fight?" Sirius asked Hermione, who simply tutted loudly.  
  
"Let's go," she added, pulling Harry's hand off his forehead.  
  
"Uh oh," said Harry. The others noticed it too. "Never changed from my robes." A smile crossed his face. "Oh well!" he said loudly. "Can't change now and there's no where to change inside King's Cross."  
  
"Take off your cloak then," suggested Hermione.  
  
"I was thinking of leaving it on to scare my aunt and uncle," said Harry giggling as he stuffed his cloak inside his trunk. "Well, see you some time in the summer I guess?"  
  
"That's right!" exclaimed Ron. "You haven't changed your mind yet, have you?"  
  
"Changed his mind about what?" inquired Sirius.  
  
"Fire Quidditch," said Harry. "The United States was so upset I helped England win that they want a rematch. Germany's in it now too. Hey Ron," he added, turning to Ron. "When -"  
  
"The first game between Germany and the United States is in a month," Ron interrupted, reading Harry's mind. "Better keep up on your practice!"  
  
"Just watch where you practice," said Sirius. "Even though Voldemort is out of the picture, there's a rumor that the Death Eaters are still at his side. If that is the case, then he'll rise faster than last time. Now come on, you have a whole summer to forget about it," he added reassuringly to Harry.  
  
Harry couldn't help but agree. Two months to forget about Voldemort was all he needed and with Sirius staying with him, he walked back through the barrier of platform nine and three-quarters grinning as broadly as ever when he saw Uncle Vernon.  
  
"Get in," grunted Uncle Vernon, his face a bright purple. There was no telling how Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would treat Harry with Sirius lurking about. Lily and James had obviously never bothered to introduce the Sirius as Lily's sister, Petunia, wanted nothing to do with wizards or witches. It was definitely going to be a strange summer and it was definitely going to be more of a vacation than summers past.  
  
The car ride was deadly quiet. Sirius and Harry sat in the back seat. Only Uncle Vernon had come and Harry guessed that Dudley was too scared (probably hiding in his room) and Aunt Petunia couldn't find the nerve. Someone had to come, though, and when Uncle Vernon grunted several more times, Harry and Sirius nodded in agreement it was Dumbledore who suggested Uncle Vernon.  
  
Walking into the house was just as quiet. Sirius followed Harry straight up to his room, looking around at the house somewhat surprised as he had most likely never been in a Muggle home.  
  
"The pictures," he said as Harry opened his door and turned the light on (it was late at night), "they don't move..."  
  
"You'll get used to it."  
  
Harry laughed madly as Dudley crossed the hallway, his hands grabbing his porky backside.  
  
"That's my cousin, Dudley," said Harry, flattening the sheets on his bed. It didn't look like anyone entered the room since he left. "If you're mean to anyone, make sure it's him."  
  
"Wouldn't it be better if we got along?" Sirius took a seat at the end of the bed.  
  
"Never going to happen," said Harry rolling his eyes. "You don't know them. I still remember what my aunt said the day Hagrid came to get me. 'I knew you'd be just the same,' she babbled, 'just as strange, just as -- as -- abnormal -- and then...'" Harry stopped, shuddering at what he knew she said next. "'And then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you...' Hagrid was there, he can tell you. Sounded like she was waiting to say it for years." In his own outrage, Harry had sat up against the side of the bed, holding his knees.  
  
"It's going to change," said Sirius sharply. "Starting with this summer."  
  
"Yeah," said Harry, a lot of hopelessness in his voice, "well... I hope so."  
  
Just then the door opened and in it, stood the white faced Aunt Petunia. She looked horrified at the sight of Sirius but there was nothing to be horrified of. He wore a perfectly clean and well-kept black cloak and underneath it, Harry had hand-picked jeans and a white t-shirt. His hair was cut short and his face cleaner than it had ever been in recent days.  
  
"Hello," he said politely. Aunt Petunia was taken aback by the tone of his voice. She forced a smile. He stood up and put a hand out but she didn't shake it -- she was too busy looking at the wand sticking out from underneath his cloak.  
  
"Yes, well," he continued, trying to break the awkward silence. "I'll stay here tonight. It's big enough for the both of us."  
  
Aunt Petunia watched horrified again as Sirius said "Accio." He must have known, or simply guessed, that no one ever removed the bed from the cupboard under the stairs. A bang signaled the cupboard door swung open. The bed came zooming up the stairs and into the room. Sirius followed it with his wand and placed it neatly on one side of the room, the sheets and covers still neatly on top of it. He then closed his eyes and muttered "Compingus reparo." Harry knew that Sirius fixed the door.  
  
"Good night," said Aunt Petunia when she finally found her voice. She closed the door a lot harder than she intended.  
  
"See what I mean?" said Harry.  
  
"I have a lot of work to do." Sirius grinned. "It's late and you should get to bed," he said father-like. "Good night."  
  
Harry stood up and crawled into bed, not bothering to change into pajamas. As Sirius didn't have any to begin with, he simply removed his cloak. He turned the light switch off with a wave of his wand.  
  
Harry stared up at the darkness above him, thinking. It wasn't going to be exactly like having parents, he thought, but at the very least, Sirius was their best friend and that had to account for something. Sirius' snores indicated he was already asleep. For the first time in a long time, Harry felt almost content with himself. The only thing preventing him from being fully content was a burning feeling in the back of his head, that, as good as things looked, things were going to go bad soon.  
  
He shouldn't worry about that, he thought to himself as he rolled over on his stomach. Voldemort is lying on the floor somewhere, a crumpled heap with a bunch of nutters running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Still, he was reminded, Wormtail was out there... but whatever was to come of what Sirius had said? What were those words?  
  
"Wormtail owes his life to you," said Sirius' voice in Harry's head. "You have sent Voldemort a deputy who is in your debt... When one wizard saves another wizard's life, it creates a certain bond between them... and I'm much mistaken if Voldemort wants his servant in the debt of Harry Potter."  
  
Chances are that Wormtail had lied about how he had escaped certain death from Ron's clutches, it was just the thing Wormtail would do. "He should have stayed a rat," said Harry outloud, angrily punching his pillow. Or better yet, Harry should have just let Sirius and Lupin kill him on the spot and none of this would have happened. Voldemort would not have been able to return to power. No one else would have died... and life would be grand.  
  
But no, Harry had to suggest Wormtail get sent to Azkaban. That left the door wide open for something to go wrong... and something did go wrong. Lupin had forgotten to take a potion that kept him sane as a werewolf and not only that, but the stupid moon couldn't stay hidden for another few precious minutes. Sirius chased after the werewolf to protect Harry, Ron, Hermione and the unconscious body of Snape, leaving Wormtail the perfect opportunity to escape.  
  
Harry pummeled his pillows. He had done the wrong thing. All he wanted was to do what he thought his father might do: give Wormtail the proper punishment and not turn Sirius and Lupin into real killers. What did all of that matter now? Killing Wormtail would have been no worse than killing the spider that Harry was staring at outside his window.  
  
Perfectly happy just moments ago, he now regretted a lot. It was stupid. He should have let Sirius and Lupin kill Wormtail. Harry shut his eyes in protest, trying to forget what he was thinking about.  
  
The next morning, Harry woke up all on his own. He turned over to lay on his back but fell to the floor with a thud, taking the covers with him. Sirius was already up and about so Harry took the opportunity to change into a pair of pajamas. Looking up at the clock, everyone was still having breakfast.  
  
Last night's thoughts had all been forgotten as he entered the kitchen. Amazingly, Sirius had the Dursleys in a conversation...  
  
"Yes, I work at a company called Grunnings," Uncle Vernon was saying. "We make drills. You can dig holes in things with them. Construction companies and such buy them from us."  
  
"I see," said Sirius, rubbing his chin. "Oh, good morning, Harry," he said as Harry stepped in.  
  
When Sirius' attention was averted, Uncle Vernon's face turned into a hideous glare that he aimed at the back of Sirius' head. Harry would keep all such looks from Sirius for as long as possible. If there was any hope in getting the two of them to like each other, that wouldn't help.  
  
Several days passed without event. Sirius seemed to take a liking to Uncle Vernon but the feeling was not at all mutual. Every time Sirius turned his back, Uncle Vernon's face became screwed up in a look of detestment. But it wasn't all bad. Strangely enough, Aunt Petunia was taking a like to Sirius.  
  
"How can you be so polite to them?" asked Harry one morning when Sirius threw a pillow at him. He continued to stay in Harry's room. The only other free room, if it could be called that, was the cupboard under the stairs.  
  
"Your aunt is still bitter towards Lily," said Sirius sternly. "There's only one way I know of to change her mind."  
  
Harry simply grunted and got out of bed.  
  
It wasn't all bad. In Sirius' presence, Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley weren't nasty towards Harry. The reason was very obvious, however. One time Sirius caught Dudley beating up on Harry and the result was Dudley being fully transfigured into a pig, finishing Hagrid's work.  
  
Harry took a picture of Dudley and had it magically glued to his dresser much to everyone else's (except Sirius') detestment.  
  
One day after lunch, the subject of Fire Quidditch came up again.  
  
"You need to practice," said Sirius. "Especially if the United States has been training extra hard," he added grinning.  
  
"But where?" asked Harry. Sirius didn't say anything. He pulled out Harry's Dragonback and invisibility cloak and held them both up. A light went off in Harry's head.  
  
"Engorgio," said Sirius pointing his wand at the cloak. "That should hide us for the entire trip to Ron's. But we can't stay long. Dumbledore gave me specific instructions to keep you here and you're only allowed to leave if you have to."  
  
"Okay," said Harry dully.  
  
"Do your aunt and uncle know you have this?"  
  
"Nope. Have to tell them."  
  
Sirius and Harry went downstairs with the cloak, now big enough to cover even Hagrid.  
  
"Petunia?" called Sirius into the living room. She just turned to look at him and Sirius held up the cloak, showing her what it does. Harry giggled at the look of distress on her face.  
  
"We'll be back later," said Sirius and the two went outside.  
  
Sirius covered Harry and himself with the cloak.  
  
"Better you fly," said Sirius. "I don't think I can fly it at full speed." Harry grinned.  
  
"It's not easy flying with two people, you know," said Harry as they both mounted the Dragonback. "I had a hard time steering around inside Azkaban." It was then that Harry remembered what he was thinking about while laying in bed only a few weeks ago.  
  
He continued to keep the thoughts to himself as he flew at breakneck speeds under Sirius' direction to the Weasley home. Sirius had already notified them they would be coming and, while flying, like everyone else, he yelped when Harry's hands slipped back a few inches from accelerating so fast. The wind was coming at them so hard it felt like a tornado winds but the coldness kept Sirius from fainting, the air being so thin at such high speeds... Sirius complained about something that sounded a lot like Apparating was preferable to sonic-speed broomsticks.  
  
"Hold on tight, then. No one's died on it, yet," Harry said, still grinning.  
  
They reached the Weasley home in record time -- about a hour -- and landed in their backyard.  
  
"Damn that thing is fast," said Sirius as they removed the cloak from themselves. "It didn't shudder or anything and we were going full speed for a full hour."  
  
"Harry!" called Ron from inside.  
  
"Reducio," Sirius said pointing his wand at the cloak, shrinking it to normal.  
  
The Weasleys owned a small paddock hidden by trees where they could practice Quidditch. Ron, Fred, George and even Sirius managed to get thirty full games in. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley tossed up gnomes that Harry had managed to catch quite easily. They finally succumbed to the idea of letting Harry try playing as a Beater. He immediately one-upped Ron as Beater and managed to knock the Quaffle they had bought from Quality Quidditch Supplies the day before out of the air during a pass a bit more often than Ron.  
  
Sirius and Harry stayed for a luxurious dinner consisting of a beef casserole and ending with a treacle pudding. They bidded the Weasleys good night and took off into the night sky to head home. Sirius insisted Harry go slower as he didn't feel like losing his excellent dinner.  
  
That night, Harry lay comfortably in bed, listening to the soothing sound of the light rain outside. He stayed up long past Sirius' light snores again, thinking, against his better judgement. What ever became of Michelle and Thantanos? Their faces had an expression of deep concern right before Voldemort said the magic words but Harry never heard from them since. Or did he even want to?  
  
How had he taken such a liking to Michelle so quickly? The answer was quick -- Voldemort must have used a charm on her directed at him. Harry couldn't help but turn madly in his bed thinking about the two of them. Thantanos had acted strangely before. Why didn't Harry take notice? After Harry had performed an immensely strong Cruciatus, Thantanos woke up trying to say something but Harry had denied Thantanos the words. The mark on the back of his neck, what was it? Most puzzling of all, why did he forget the incident only days later?  
  
Many times before Harry had questions he couldn't answer himself. It was these very problems that haunted his dreams. Harry dozed off while thinking about it.  
  
"My dear boy!" began a Thantanos in his dreams. "I would never deprive my master of what he wants most!" Harry's very own skin nearly blinded him. The mark of ancients was truly bright when he wanted it to be. Before another thought crossed his mind, before he had time to think of what it would do, he tried his own turn at the Cruciatus Curse.  
  
The pain must have been so powerful, so all consuming, that it took just one long, earsplitting, inhuman and bloody scream before the body of Thantanos lie motionless on the floor. Unconscious or dead, Harry really didn't care.  
  
"Is he... breathing?" said Hermione cautiously as she walked up to the body. Sirius followed her.  
  
"My God," said Sirius switching his head between Thantanos and Harry, "what did you use?"  
  
"Cruciatus," said Harry without pity. Sirius bent over Thantanos and checked for a pulse.  
  
"Still alive..."  
  
"Hey," said Hermione, "what's this?"  
  
"What's what?" said Ron. Harry bent down to look.  
  
"That," she said, pointing at something on the back of Thantanos' neck. "It's a tattoo."  
  
"Of a Slytherin snake," said Harry. "Who cares. Just showing off."  
  
"Wait a minute... it - it's changing..."  
  
Harry would have none of this. He wanted Thantanos out and to forget all about it. "Ennervate," he said pointing his wand at Thantanos, whose entire body gave a spasm at once. Thantanos sprang to his feet and stared horrified at Harry. "Go before I change my mind," said Harry. "I ought to kill you where you stand."  
  
"But, please," said Thantanos, much more like a beg than anything else, "listen to what I have to say!"  
  
"Make it quick," said Harry. Harry plopped himself heavily onto his chair. He didn't want to listen but with the expression on Thantanos' face, he didn't have a choice.  
  
"You have to listen. My master -- Lord Vol- You-Know-Who -- put me up to it. He keeps us under constant Imperius. If he finds out that you broke it for me, he'll have me killed... or worse..." Thantanos got out of his chair and got on his knees and started pleading to Harry. "Harry... Please... help... he's not dead, not even now in the present... he knows you're staying with Sirius... he's going to... he's coming... he - will - kill - you!"  
  
Very disturbed at this behavior, Harry sat dumbstruck in his chair. His sleeping mind didn't ponder the words of Thantanos -- it was his conscious mind that made Harry wake up with a start, letting out a loud yelp and sitting bolt upright. His arm was dangling off the edge of the bed and he was in a cold sweat. The Thantanos in his dreams knows he's with Sirius at this very moment? Harry's scream was loud enough to wake up Sirius.  
  
"Harry?" he called from the darkness. "What's the matter?"  
  
"Nothing," lied Harry at first. He then realized he shouldn't constantly hide the details. It was these little things that later turned out to become the nightmares. He paused, listening to his own heavy breath, before saying, "Everything." He shifted around before going to lay on his back.  
  
"It's good for you to get these things off your chest," said Sirius comfortingly, sitting up. He lit the end of his wand and made it hover in the middle of the room. The light was enough to see the room end to end clearly. Harry layed back down and stared blankly at the ceiling. Sirius stared directly at Harry. Neither caught the other's gaze.  
  
"Michelle and Thantanos... Right before Voldemort tried to..." -- and he swallowed without saying "kill me" -- "Michelle said she was sorry."  
  
"I don't know what to tell you," said Sirius flatly. "If anyone else your age had to put up with this, they might very well break down. Whatever you do, keep doing it."  
  
Harry immediately planned out what the conversation would be if he said "Look at me, am I doing it very well?" but the concerned look on Sirius' face prevented him from blurting it out. Sirius would have just said "But you're up and about," to which Harry would then say "Being up and about isn't enough. I want to be happy." A small part of him cried out something along the lines of "You'll get through it. When push comes to shove, you've always jammed it through."  
  
Harry swallowed all pretense and said "I'm not holding anything back anymore. Whatever I'm feeling, I'm telling someone whether they want to hear it or not."  
  
"You aren't doing that already?" questioned Sirius and sounding rather concerned. Harry felt himself go red. There was a pause.  
  
"Good night," said Harry suddenly. Talk to Sirius tomorrow morning, he told himself, as his mind drifted off into the satisfying state of sleep. 


	5. Michelle and Thantanos

Chapter 5: MICHELLE AND THANTANOS  
  
The very next morning, Sirius was eating breakfast on the floor, propped up against the bed, apparently waiting for Harry to wake up.  
  
"Get something to eat and come back here," he said, quickly swallowing the last of his toast. "And get your aunt and uncle too. I want them to hear what you have to say." He licked his fingers and waited patiently.  
  
Harry couldn't scratch away the sudden realization as he walked downstairs that Sirius was making a full replacement for James. He didn't show the feeling that stirred inside him, the feeling that Sirius, as he always had, would make everything better. Only two years ago, when he was worried that Sirius would get caught coming back north after Harry had blabbed about his scar hurting, did Harry come to the conclusion that he needn't worry about Sirius. After all, Harry had enough worrying to do without his godfather in the picture.  
  
"Good morning," said Aunt Petunia, only a little brighter than she had last summer. It almost took Harry by surprise but then he had to keep in mind it would take a lot of conditioning for them to accept him as more than unwanted garbage.  
  
"Sirius wants you two upstairs," said Harry as he sliced a bagel in two and buttered it. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn't reply. The sound of quick chewing indicated Dudley wanted to get out as soon as possible. "He wants to talk to me and he wants you two to listen."  
  
Harry turned around to see Uncle Vernon slice off a big piece of his pancakes and swallow it whole. Uncle Vernon then proceeded to grunt. Harry grinned behind their backs and relished in the thought that Sirius seemed to have taken control of the house. He took out a plate from the cabinet and put the bagel on top of it. As he grabbed something to drink and headed back upstairs, two chairs flew passed him.  
  
Everyone except Dudley was all crammed in the room and no one was talking. Sirius had summoned the chairs from the kitchen. Harry took a big bite out of his bagel and Sirius was the first to speak.  
  
"You ought to hear what's bothering him," said Sirius, looking suspiciously at the Dursleys. Whether they didn't care or didn't want to defy Sirius, both of them kept their mouths shut. Harry didn't take it to be fear, Sirius was never forceful or angry with them. They just seemed to accept him which, by itself, was very surprising. "What was it you didn't want to tell me last night?" Sirius looked very eager for Harry's reply.  
  
Harry sat nervously on top of his bed. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petuna were in chairs against the wall by the door. It was a very odd situation to say the least. He had never, ever talked to the Dursleys about his troubles owing to the fact that they would think it laughable. Or would they? He always assumed the answer was yes but never managed to find out if his assumption was true. Maybe there was light at the end of the tunnel.  
  
"Remember when I used Cruciatus on Thantanos, he fell to the ground, I revived him and then he ran off before he said anything?"  
  
No, whoever was holding the light just put it out. Both of the Dursleys flinched at the words "Cruciatus" and "revived."  
  
"Go on," said Sirius now leaning forward, hanging on Harry's every word.  
  
"I had a dream about it," said Harry brightly. His mood suddenly changed for the worse at the thought of the dream and became sulky. "The thing on the back of his neck, Hermione said it was changing. I didn't look at it. Then when he got back up he said to help him, that Voldemort's not dead and he knows I'm staying here with you." He took a nervous, huge, bite from his bagel and began to chew quickly. It was rather more than he could stuff in his mouth all at once.  
  
"How does he know that?" said Sirius. "It was just a dream!"  
  
"The same nutter," began Uncle Vernon, looking back and forth between Harry and Sirius, "that killed Lily and James is after him?" It sounded much more like a forced question than something he wanted to say but Harry appreciated the concern, however slight, all the same. Sirius shook his head deeply.  
  
"Four years and you don't know anything," he growled.  
  
Uncle Vernon's great flush face became the usual purple but it didn't look like he was going to burst out with anything just yet. Harry grinned slightly and finished chewing.  
  
"The same nutter only wanted Harry dead, not his parents," Sirius said, "but I don't know why. We thought it was because Harry was a descendant of a group of old wizards with that thing you might remember, the Mark of Ancients? Well we removed it from Harry, and Voldemort, well..."  
  
"I don't know why they bother me so much," Harry said, "but Thantanos was very sure in saying Voldemort... will kill me this time."  
  
Aunt Petunia let out a muffled gasp of horror, clasping a hand to her mouth.  
  
"But why would he still want me dead when it's gone?" asked Harry. The question left Sirius scratching his head, ending the conversation. They all finished their breakfast quietly.  
  
Life continued as normal and the only effect this conversation had was making Harry feel less nervous, which, granted, was worth at least something. He and Sirius made frequent trips every other day to the Weasley paddock to keep Harry in practice for the upcoming game of Fire Quidditch. Harry could tell that Ron was working him extra hard and it was evident that Sirius had told Ron about his worries. It worked very well.  
  
At one point, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Fred, George and Ginny were throwing various things around all at once for Harry to catch. They had to be reminded that not only was the Fire Quidditch Snitch faster but it was covered in knives. Fred threw up a knife at some point (much to the screaming of Mrs. Weasley). At first, Harry handily cut himself on the blade but the second, third and fouth time around he managed to catch it by the handle.  
  
Many days passed without incident and Harry had all but forgotten again about days past. When flying on the Dragonback on the way home, not only did it provide another rush to keep Harry awake, it was a very good way of getting the sweat off of him. He couldn't remember Wood working him so hard. All was for the better, anything to keep his mind off Voldemort and onto beating the United States again.  
  
One fairly cool but very wet day in the middle of July, the phone rang and for the second time in his life, it was for Harry. Sirius was in Diagon Alley and the Dursleys were sure to be as nasty as possible without Harry babbling to his godfather.  
  
"HARRY!" roared Uncle Vernon to Harry from across the house. "GET THE PHONE!" Harry put down Fire Quidditch: A Cold Past, A Hot Future, having just read the gruesome account of one Spiked Snitch that saw fit to dig itself into a Seeker's chest in 1866, and scrambled over to pick up the phone.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Harry!"  
  
"Ron! You learned how to use a telephone properly!"  
  
"Hermione called our house and made me practice..."  
  
"At least you aren't shouting. My uncle gave me a good yelling -"  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"Don't worry about it. So what're you calling about?"  
  
"Fire Quidditch!" shouted Ron happily. "The game is on your birthday!" Harry took a minute to ponder the consequences. Yes, he assured himself, someone was going to embarass him.  
  
"Was that on purpose?"  
  
"Mr. Bagman said it would be a great birthday present and he has a strong feeling England is going to win again. Oh and wear the Order of Merlin necklace to the game. Dad said that Bagman wants to see at least one person wear it."  
  
"Great way to take the pressure off my back," said Harry sharply.  
  
"Don't worry about it!" Ron assured him. "You were great last year and now you have a faster broom than any of them!" Harry couldn't help but smile on this reminder.  
  
"It only took Sirius and I an hour to get to your house riding at full speed. First time I thought he was going to jump off. He doesn't like it though, makes him sick," added Harry chortling.  
  
"Okay, great. See you tomorrow then?"  
  
"After lunch."  
  
Ron paused.  
  
"This is where you say 'good-bye'."  
  
"Good-bye," said Ron.  
  
"Bye."  
  
Harry hung the phone up, grinning ear to ear. He pictured it clearly in his head (this time not falling one hundred feet and passing out): the England players holding the humungous Fire Quidditch trophy, thousands of hands pressing in on him from every direction, screaming his name. Then he remembered last year during the Triwizard Tournament that he pictured the same thing and the ending wasn't nearly what he hoped for... But there was light. He had won a Fire Quidditch game before and so he put the bad thought out of his mind and into the garbage can along with his half-eaten breakfast.  
  
July thirty first neared closer and Ron's practice sessions had become something of a juggling show. Harry had started calling him Oliver, to many mixed feelings of Ron. Under Mr. Weasley's suggestion, Harry was to fly the Dragonback, hidden under the invisibility cloak of course, up and down their street as fast as he could go and do all the tricks he ever learned and to try new things.  
  
The result of such sessions was doing figure eights around Muggles outside and catching owls, among other birds. Nothing they could find, Mr. Weasley kept mentioning, was not nearly as fast as the Fire Quidditch Snitch. It outstripped a Firebolt which kept Harry wondering what would prevent a Dragonback from keeping up with it -- unless it was bewitched to fly just a little faster than the Seeker chasing it... On second thought, this seemed very likely because otherwise, he would end up catching it in under ten minutes. Or was it? He would have to wait to find out.  
  
Monday, two days before Harry's birthday, was a strange day to say the least.  
  
Harry awoke alone in his room, once again cursing the sun in his eye. He opened Hedwig's cage and she immediately perched herself on his shoulder. The two of them crept downstairs, expecting to see Sirius at least in the kitchen but it was empty except a note floating above the table. It read simply:  
  
Gone out shopping. Be back later. Have something to eat.  
  
Sirius  
  
Okay, he had the house to himself. Harry tried to grab the note but it escaped his fingers and directed itself to the garbage. A loud television indicated Dudley was lurking somewhere in the house. What to do?  
  
In the mean time, the grumbling in Harry's stomach gave him a mental note to get something to eat. Having never actually tasted the thing Uncle Vernon called pancakes, he took the box out of the refridgerator and checked the directions.  
  
Pour half a cup of mix into pan provided.  
One half cup per full pancake.  
Heat until bottom is brown.  
Flip and repeat.  
  
Simple enough. Harry poured one full cup of the glop, measuring with the cup inside the box, one half each into a plastic pancake-shaped pan attached to the side of the box and threw it onto the stove. He turned it on high and walked into the living room, turning on the television.  
  
Someone trying to hit a white ball with a wooden stick then running like mad around a diamond... boring... bunch of people running around trying to throw an orange ball into hoops... even more boring... morning news... more boring still...  
  
Just then, something soft, small and brown hit Harry on the side of the head. Hedwig scowled. Harry looked over the side of the couch and saw --  
  
"Hello, Pig," he said, trying to detain the madly hooting owl. He grabbed Ron's owl between his index finger and thumb and pulled off the note attached to the leg.  
  
Harry,  
Have to get to our house just after dinner today at the latest and we leave immediately tomorrow morning. Hermione was right, there's going to be a bigger turnout this time. Bigger than the Quidditch World Cup last year. We think about three hundred thousand will turn up. The stadium seats about half a million but we don't reckon that many will show up. I do reckon it's mostly to see you play. No pressure!  
  
It's in the same place as the last game and we're going to take a Portkey at Stoatshead Hill again. Bagman figured if it worked twice so far, it'll work again and they didn't have any time to plan anything else. They're using all wizards to manage the camping arrangements. Dad said the entire Ministry of Magic is taking off to be there. That cow Rita Skeeter will be too.  
  
Oh well. Can't wait! See you later.  
  
PS: Hermione's Head Girl. I knew that was coming.  
  
Ron  
  
A woman on the channel five morning news began a new story.  
  
"What is this?" she began. "Is it the Great Reminder? Hundreds of people report that, when they get near the moor located next to the lake by the old church, they suddenly forget what they were doing there and remember an appointment they were late for. Is this the work of aliens? Is it a new Area Fifty One?"  
  
Harry giggled at the news cast and went back into the kitchen to check on the pancakes. He flipped them over and went back to flipping through television channels.  
  
It wasn't until a few hours before dinner did the Dursleys and Sirius get home. Harry went back downstairs from his room and immediately showed Sirius Ron's letter. The Dursleys were being very, very quiet and Harry couldn't tell if he liked their talking more; even if it was just grunts and barks, it was something. Harry took to thinking this was their way of expressing concern about tomorrow. Sirius, unfortunately, was very quiet too and this began to make Harry feel anxious about it.  
  
There appeared to be just one problem.  
  
"You two ARE going," said Sirius sternly and looking at Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia in the eye as he finished the last bite of dinner. "I don't know if you can go by Floo Powder. It's never been tried with Muggles."  
  
"What about Disapparating?" asked Harry.  
  
"Takes quite a bit of powerful magic to Disapparate and take someone with yourself. Didn't you learn anything from the mark of ancients?" Sirius grinned. Harry went into the living room and slumped onto the couch. "Besides, there's the issue of the anti-Muggle charms," Sirius added. He put a finger to his chin and scratched it thoughtfully, sitting next to Harry.  
  
"Could always try stuffing them onto the Dragonback," Harry suggested. "You can Disapparate, we'll meet you there."  
  
"Good idea. I'll just enlarge it."  
  
And that was what they did, much to the detestment of Uncle Vernon having to ride a high speed broomstick hidden under an invisibility cloak. He did seem to enjoy the pure speed. Harry turned around to see the look on his face when his hands slipped back when accelerating. Flying at three hundred miles per hour was a far cry from going ten while sitting in morning and afternoon rush hour but neither of them were showing anything besides a look of discomfort the entire time.  
  
They arrived at the Weasley home in just over fourty minutes (Harry pressed himself perfectly flat against the Dragonback, peeking up to see if they weren't headed for any tall objects... or birds).  
  
"Everyone's getting stuffed in my room again," said Ron, "and Percy wants his room to himself again. Ever since they made him head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation he's become even more boring to be around. Oh and Sirius is already here."  
  
Having already eaten and feeling fully confident, Harry fell asleep along with everyone else. Bill, Percy and Charlie would be Apparating. The Dursleys took comfort in sleeping on beds Sirius conjured in the living room.  
  
The very next morning, Harry was awoken by something tickling his ear.  
  
Harry shook his head and Pigwidgeon fell to the floor, hooting incessantly. Fred, George, Ron, Hermione, Sirius were just waking up, too. Mrs. Weasley was standing in the door way holding up her wand threateningly, a piece of toast stuck in her mouth.  
  
"Get up," she barked. "Eat breakfast, get dressed and do it as fast as you can't. We have to leave!" Ron sat up groaning. Fred pulled his covers over his head. George went back to sleep. Hermione sprang to her feet.  
  
"Come on!" barked Hermione, mimicing Mrs. Weasley very well, Harry thought. Ginny walked in and over to Harry, who had also pulled the covers over himself, poked him in the ribs and ran away before anyone knew who did it.  
  
"I'm up," said Harry hoarsely. "I'm up." He rolled over, not having enough sleep and fell onto the floor but scampered to his feet before anyone knew what happened. He put on his glasses and necklace and opened the window. It was still dark out. He then tore the covers off everyone. Sirius let out a moan that sounded more like a dog than a human then flipped his legs over the edge and sat upright, yawning.  
  
"Doesn't let us get much sleep, that woman, does she," he said.  
  
"Come on," said Ron groggily. "All players need to get there early for pre-game practice."  
  
The Dursleys were already awake and eating in the kitchen. They didn't appear to be bothered so much by magic but that was probably because it stared them in the face wherever they went. If they were still horrified, the muscles in their face probably lost the will to stay in that shape.  
  
When Harry stepped into the kitchen, Ginny tried her best not to knock her cereal bowl on the floor. Much like the previous year in getting ready for the Quidditch World Cup, everyone had some food in one of their hands and something else (another piece of food, a newspaper, paper, a sock or other clothing, Pigwidgeon...) in the other.  
  
When Harry finally managed to pull on England's Quidditch robes (which, thankfully, were the same ones he wore for Gryffindor, saving him the trouble of getting new ones) the proper way (he accidently put on the cloak backwards, then flipped the shirt inside out) and everyone was finally dressed and ready to go, they were off.  
  
Silence filled the air as the ten of them walked quietly up the silent streets, the sun beginning to rise over their still-yawning heads. The air was warm this time around but too warm as beads of sweat broke out on the back of everyone's neck. Harry was being cooked beneath the heavy robes and a big, long coat given to him by Mr. Weasley to hide his unmuggle-like clothing. His Dragonback was tucked inside.  
  
Harry made sure to check for rabbit holes as they climbed the hill, waiting breathlessly to reach the top to get to the Portkeys. His own legs became weightless hinges, attached by nails to a stinging upper torso.  
  
"Hey there, Harry!" someone shouted from behind a tree. Aunt Petunia jumped.  
  
"Hi, Hagrid," said Harry, summoning the last of the energy from two pieces of toast in his legs and running over. Hagrid, unlike the everyone else, looked fully rested and was enjoying himself.  
  
"Yeh can pull off that ruddy coat. Yer sweatin' like a pig." Harry happily pulled the coat off himself, handing it to Mr. Weasley and also pulled the cloak off, slinging it over his shoulder. "There aren' any Muggles aroun' here." He looked up to everyone else. "The Portkey is that crumpled newspaper over by that brown thing with five fingers." Harry recognized it as a baseball glove.  
  
All of them now grabbed the newspaper, Mr. Weasley furtively checking his watch every two seconds.  
  
"Ah ha!" he said and immediately Harry knew what he was ah-haing about. A hook behind his navel jerked him forward and he stumbled, almost falling onto the ground. His feet lifted off the ground, everyone's shoulders banging into his own, flying forward fast, his fingers clamped onto the newspaper. When the stream of colors and howling wind died down, only himself, Hagrid and Mr. Weasley were still standing.  
  
Harry helped Ron and Hermione to their feet, Hagrid pulling everyone else up. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia quickly brushed themselves off, staring all around the moor. In front of them stood a small witch sitting on a chair next to a box. Mr. Weasley handed her the newspaper and she tossed it into the box.  
  
Hagrid kept watch on the Dursleys who were looking all over, half nervous, half surveying their odd surroundings as they all walked forward under Mr. Weasley's lead. In a half hour's time, Albus Dumbledore, Percy Weasley and Ludo Bagman stood at the head of a small line of wizards and witches.  
  
"Good morning, everyone," said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles.  
  
"No chances this year," said Bagman, "none at all. Last year's episode was enough. You'll see Rita Skeeter frolicking around, she's our biggest worry."  
  
Hermione's face screwed up in anger but she kept the comment trying to burst from her lips to herself.   
  
"Brought Muggles with you, have you?" asked Dumbledore when Mr. Weasley finally got the head of the line. Aunt Petunia smiled half-pleasantly at him. "The anti-Muggle field was modified just last night. It won't affect them but every other Muggle will still walk away."  
  
"Yes, yes, good," said Mr. Weasley brightly. "So then, where are your tents?" Dumbledore plunged a hand inside a small box next to him, pulled out a black sphere, no bigger than a tennis ball and handed it to Mr. Weasley. Harry stared at it.  
  
"Er," said Harry and the Dursleys in unison.  
  
"That's a wizard's compass," said Hermione. "There's a white dot on it, which you can't see right now. It points in the direction we need to go."  
  
Indeed, Harry examined the front of it and a small white dot beckoned them onward. Without Muggles, Harry guessed, they could use whatever method they needed to to make their jobs easier. Along the way, Harry couldn't recognize anyone roaming the landscape but saying it was more crowded than the Quidditch World Cup was an understatement. It was packed, inch to inch, with tents and people. Several kids had miniature models of Dragonbacks and plenty of eyes followed Harry as he passed.  
  
The compass led them into a place that resembled their previous place of residence for the Quidditch World Cup. At the very top, stood the white dot, indicating they were in the correct spot. A small sign stuck out of the ground with "Potter" written on it. Mr. Weasley threw the compass at it and both vanished upon contact. The wood nearby stood a grisly reminder of what happened two years ago: the Dark Mark, Voldemort's sign, had been conjured, sending the wizards and witches staying into hysterics.  
  
"Ah, here it is," said Mr. Weasley, pointing his finger at a miniature tent on the ground. He pointed his wand at it and said, "Engorgio," causing the thing to sprout up and split into two equal sized tents. Harry walked nonchalantly inside and watched the mouth on Uncle Vernon's face open wider than it ever had, even when he was screaming at Harry.  
  
The tent had three bedrooms, a kitchen and a bathroom and none of this bothered anyone but the Dursleys. One tent was for the boys, the other, for girls. Ginny and Mrs. Weasley directed Aunt Petunia into her tent, immediately engaging in questions Harry could only make out a few words of ("How... TENT!... inside...").  
  
Before anyone could say anything, a wizard in robes exactly like Harry's parked himself just outside Harry's tent.  
  
"Mr. Potter?" he asked.  
  
"Yes," said Harry.  
  
"Cyrus Stone," he said, beaming, "team manager for England. Would you please follow me?"  
  
"See you later," Harry called back as he stepped outside.  
  
"Heard about your exploits in the Triwizard Tournament," said Stone as he led Harry towards the foresr (the Fire Quidditch field was on the other side), Harry felt himself go pinkish. "Whole team was hoping you'd come again. Been practicing, I hope?"  
  
"Yes. A lot. The team captain for Gryffindor at Hogwarts has been helping me," said Harry, thinking of Ron.  
  
"Ah yes, heard lots about that Ronald Weasley. Led Gryffindor to several great victories, didn't he? I've been keeping up on Hogwarts' Quidditch games. Best there are. So," he said, clearing his throat, "yes... I'm just going to introduce you to the rest of the team and we'll be practicing with normal Quidditch balls for a few hours. In which case, that reminds me. I forgot to tell you to get your broom." Stone stopped dead. Harry grinned.  
  
"Accio Dragonback!" he shouted, holding out his wand in the direction of their tent. Within a second, the Dragonback came flying into view and stopped midair in front of Harry. Stone grinned with delight and continued walking through the forest. They reached the other end, staring out at the huge Fire Quidditch field. It lay four times as long and twice as wide as a regular Quidditch field. This was mostly to accommodate the pure speed of the players and balls as they zoomed around.  
  
Harry recognized all the faces immediately and they all ran over to him. He turned towards two people he never expected to see again, Thantanos and Michelle. Michelle's long black hair fluttered in the wind, frayed at the ends. Harry could clearly see the tattoo on the back of Thantanos' neck when he turned. The smiles on their faces confirmed the suspicion they had something to tell him but he couldn't calm the unsettling feeling in his stomach that, while they had looked sorry, when all was said and done, they tried to kill him... Harry had many questions for them once the three had a chance to be alone. Accept them for now, he told himself, until you can prove they're all bad.  
  
"Michelle and Thantanos Brev," said Cyrus Stone, "our Beaters. Oliver Wood is our Keeper. The others I'm sure you know as well. Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell are the Chasers." Harry's grin grew even bigger. Apart from a worry over Thantanos and Michelle, it was Quidditch at Hogwarts all over again. Angelina, Alicia and Katie had always been superb Chasers and Oliver had been an excellent Keeper.  
  
"This here's the first team ever to have all it's players under the age of thirty," said Stone. "Remarkable, really! All of you I know are superb at what you do!" He began to look overexcited at his own words and Harry thought that at any minute he would be jumping up and down, clapping his hands. "No doubts we're going to win this one!" He did clap his hands but there was no jumping.  
  
"Now," he said looking at the field, "there's a box by the near hoops with the Quaffle, Bludgers and Snitch inside it. You can handle it on your own, I'm sure. I must go speak with the United State's team captain over a small affair. I will be back in about an hour." Stone trotted off happily back towards the forest and disappeared from sight.  
  
The Gryffindor Quidditch team reunion commenced immediately.  
  
"Harry!" shrieked Wood. "Haven't seen you in a year! How ya been!" Harry could tell by the tone of his voice he hadn't heard a word of what happened the previous year but didn't have the heart to tell him as he was in a very good mood. Suddenly, Wood jumped.  
  
"What?" asked Harry and then instantly he knew what Oliver was looking at. It wasn't his scar, Wood's eyes were too low. "Oh, this." The Order of Merlin necklace was just visible, glittering brightly in the light. He pulled it out from underneath his robes, grinning and showed Oliver the plaque. "Got it just last term." Then he remembered the consequences under which he had obtained it. Oddly, a feeling of ease swept over him as he held it in his fingers. He briefly explained the episode to Oliver, who sat, his face white, through the entire talk. Everyone else looked to have heard about it from somewhere else.  
  
The seven of them recollected their past experiences (Oliver continued to stare at the necklace, to which Harry then tucked back inside his robes) and Harry noticed that no one else seemed to be bothered by Michelle and Thantanos. It was when an odd silence broke the conversation that Harry had to ask,  
  
"You lot aren't at all bothered by these two?" pointing at Michelle and Thantanos.  
  
"I suppose we ought to tell him," said Michelle. She looked directly at Harry, shot both eyes at Thantanos then looked back at Harry, curling her head sideways. A weak smile played across her face.  
  
"Tell me what?" asked Harry, now slightly annoyed, but he kept that out of his voice. They had waited all this time, not even by owl, to explain what he's been wondering for several months?  
  
At that moment, Angelina, Alicia, Katie and Oliver had set off towards the Quidditch field leaving the three of them in peace to speak.  
  
"Our real last name is Quirrel," Michelle began, glancing at everyone. This came as a shock to Harry, noted by his raised eyebrows. He had known one Quirrel. "You remember Professor Quirrel, Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher during your first year? Vol- You-Know-Who told us you killed our dad for no reason, tortured him incessantly, when he came to our house. We already had no mom, she fled when dad told her he was a wizard a month before I got my letter."  
  
Thoughts started to swirl in Harry's head. Another family torn apart by Muggle versus Wizard relationships. Just as Voldemort must have been thinking, Michelle and Thantanos sought revenge. Harry's shoulders became tense as he bared himself for the coming story.  
  
"Before we had any time to think it over, he had given us some of your blood so we would have the mark of ancients, too. We tried to resist but we fell under a permanent Imperius within a few days' time. Both of us tried hard to fight it off. A permanent Imperius due to a mark of ancients is an order of magnitude stronger and harder to fight off." Michelle looked slightly pained at the next words she was going to say.  
  
"The story about me being your sister... I - I had a weak Love Charm directed towards you. Voldemort was able to read our minds all year and through the Imperius, we tricked the spirits of your parents, and everyone else, into believing the same story with Memory Charms.  
  
"When you hit my brother with that insanely strong Crucio, it broke him out of it temporarily. I wiped his memory of that so he wouldn't break free again. I had been fighting it off all year."  
  
She looked rather unhappy with herself. Harry couldn't hide the feelings of confusion and anger. And yet, they weren't acting on their own free will just as so many others had not been... or so said.  
  
"I don't trust you yet," were the words that came tumbling from Harry's mouth before he could stop them.  
  
"We told everyone what happened immediately after you disappeared," said Thantanos. "Dumbledore immediately removed the mark of ancients from us."  
  
In the back of his mind, Harry knew that Dumbledore would trust them as he had trusted Snape and quickly settled the matter with himself.  
  
"All right," he said, eyeing Michelle and Thantanos. "But your dad was killed by Voldemort, not me."  
  
"When we spilled our story to Dumbledore," said Michelle, "he told us our dad's story."  
  
Harry's shoulders finally relaxed. He would have to accept it. Besides, Dumbledore would no doubt be involved if he knew the two of them were on the Fire Quidditch team and being in contact with Ludo Bagman and Madam Hooch, he would certainly know right away. Moreoever, he would find out they were there as soon as the game started anyway... If Dumbledore wanted to do something, he would not waste any time. Harry would just have to watch himself during practice, that was all. 


	6. The Best Birthday

Chapter 6: THE BEST BIRTHDAY  
  
Harry, Michelle and Thantanos joined Katie, Alicia, Oliver and Angelina on the field. Harry mounted his Dragonback and did a few laps to wake himself up, the hot wind suddenly becoming very cold when flying at about two hundred miles per hour. The laps only took a few seconds each. Michelle and Thantanos stood dumbstruck as Harry took it over the woods and back at full speed. Angelina and Katie giggled passed Thantanos, his mouth wide open.  
  
Katie, Angelina and Alicia took many practice shots against Oliver. He was as good a Keeper as ever and it was hard to tell if he was just extremely adept at catching the Quaffle or Katie, Angelina and Alicia were just really bad at getting it past him. Harry guessed the former as he caught the Snitch for the third time in under ten minutes, which, given the size of the field, was very good. The slow Golden Snitch was no match for a Dragonback capable of outstripping Fire Quidditch's Spiked Snitch.  
  
Cyrus Stone returned about an hour after he left, happy as ever. He commended everyone, especially Harry, on their superb performance. Alicia, Katie and Angelina performed their figure eight passing with excellence and when Harry thrusted Katie along on his Dragonback at full speed, Oliver didn't dare get in the way. Around lunchtime, Stone let everyone go back to their tents.  
  
Harry could see Hermione and Ron with two friends sitting outside the tents. Hermione had collected Viktor Krum and Ron had brought Fleur Delacour from somewhere. Cho, unfortunately, was nowhere to be found and at some time during his absence, Percy, Bill and Charlie joined. Harry tossed the Dragonback inside his tent and ate lunch, telling Sirius about Michelle and Thantanos; he was the only one who didn't know.  
  
Nightfall drew near. Mrs. Weasley, Hermione and Ginny joined the other tent for dinner. Harry expressed his concerns with everyone about Michelle and Thantanos. He also took notice at the Dursleys, who, surprisingly, began talk to Harry as if he was really a nephew. He also noticed that Mrs. Weasley exchanged the nasty look she reserved for them to a forced smile and accepted this as the start of waning hostility. Or perhaps the Dursleys were just being nice because if they weren't, there were about three hundred thousand wizards just outside the tent?  
  
Bedtime rose quickly over deep conversation about Lord Voldemort. The Dursleys shared their accounts on Muggle news. As Mr. Weasley pointed out constantly during the talk, Muggle families suffered just as bad as wizarding families. It was nice, Harry thought, as Aunt Petunia and Mrs. Weasley bickered over which was a more thorough way of cleaning dishes (Muggle vs Wizarding), to see them actually get along. It would be an eternity, he reminded himself, as Aunt Petunia smashed her plate on the floor, gaping as Mrs. Weasley fixed it, before he would rather stay at the Dursley's than at the Weasley's.  
  
"Run along now," said Mrs. Weasley, magicking all the plates clean, glaring at Aunt Petunia. "Everyone off to bed. Especially you, Harry," she added, now glaring at him.  
  
Harry removed his cloak, pulled off the gauntlets and layed down on his bed, staring up, once again, at the ceiling, thinking, except his thinking didn't last long. Practice with the full team drained him of much of his energy. On his mind this time was only the game tomorrow and with that, his eyes closed, he rolled over onto his stomach, an arm dangling off the edge... and dozed off.  
  
When Harry got up the next morning, he remembered that, for the first time, he didn't stay up till midnight so he could celebrate his birthday with himself. It took a minute to hit him that there were at least three hundred thousand people just outside his tent ready to wish him a happy sixteenth birthday. It was a great feeling, that, to say the very least.  
  
Nobody else was up yet. Something woke him up extra early, probably to make up for the fact that he wasn't up until midnight. The moon wasn't out at least... but it was raining. After a minute, Uncle Vernon stopped snoring and grunted his early morning grunt. Not trying to press his luck (and the so far good morning), Harry leaned over to pick up his glasses, ignoring his uncle totally, and put them on along with the necklace. Someone small dashed out of the room when he stretched his arms and looked over by the door. That had to be Ginny.  
  
Sirius and Mr. Weasley were missing, most likely outside, Mr. Weasley doing last minute preparations and Sirius helping. That light rain outside, Harry had a feeling, by the time the game starts would be a heavy downpour.  
  
Mrs. Weasley poked her head inside.  
  
"Good morning!" she said. "Arthur and Sirius are outside helping Mr. Fudge and Mr. Bagman. Have some breakfast, Harry. Stone will stop by later to get you."  
  
Harry helped himself to a box of Miss Wool's Waffles-In-About-Twenty-Five-Point-Six-Seconds while Uncle Vernon grabbed the nearest box of Special K cereal. Something came out of his mouth that sounded a lot like "good morning." Was there any more good to come out of Sirius staying at the Dursley's with Harry? He had to wonder if it would be a permanent change or if they were just being nice under Sirius' orders. It was just too good to be true and they had fifteen years of being rotten to Harry to change from. He took a seat at the kitchen table opposite his uncle. They ate silently.  
  
His luck was just never that good... and besides, Dudley was with Aunt Marge. Even if his aunt and uncle would ever change, Dudley wouldn't. Aunt Marge was the one he really wanted to change. She wasn't even a real aunt to Harry, she just forced him to call her that.  
  
He could clearly remember that every time she was under the same roof as him, something embarassing, something terribly embarassing, would happen. It wasn't until two years ago when Harry exacted his revenge exploding a glass in her hand and a few days later, blew her up like a balloon. Normally he would have been in big trouble, but the then-thought murderer Sirius Black was after Harry. When the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge was glad just to see Harry alive, he got off without punishment. Aunt Marge was restored to her normal beefy self and the incident cleared with Memory Charms.  
  
"Mr. Potter?"  
  
Someone was calling Harry but under his daydreaming, he hadn't noticed. Cyrus Stone stepped inside and tapped him on the shoulder.  
  
"Oh," said Harry, snapping out of it, "hello."  
  
"Come, Mr. Potter. All players are due on the field now. Grab your broom. Game starts in an hour! Mr. Black and Mr. Weasley will be back any moment. Chop chop! I'll be outside."  
  
Harry wolfed down the unfinished waffles and woke up Ron, Percy, Bill, Charlie, Fred and George.  
  
"C'mon, get up," said Harry. Sirius and Mr. Weasley walked in on cue. Mr. Weasley looked delighted. Sirius looked nervous.  
  
"Had us up at the crack of dawn to rearrange some seats," said Mr. Weasley, wiping the sweat off his brow. "I tell you, it's raining but it doesn't help in this heat." Inside the tent, thankfully, was perfectly comfortable. "Hope it gets heavier or you'll be broiling out there."  
  
"I'll see you when the game starts," said Harry. A rush of excitement swept through him. It was his birthday and three hundred thousand people were going to celebrate it with him. Nothing bad is going to happen, he assured himself, no trouble at all. The only trouble is, trouble usually went looking for him.  
  
Who could cause trouble this time? Voldemort was a heap of nothing and with three hundred thousand people outside, any Death Eaters playing games were sure to be caught. Dementors would be struck away immediately by the Patronus of thousands of wizards and witches and his alone, Harry thought, would make most of them go away.  
  
As the rain outside got a little heavier, he threw his cloak on, put the gauntlets on, put on the Order of Merlin necklace (tucking it underneath his robes) and stepped outside.  
  
If it was crowded yesterday, it didn't hold a candle to the sheer number of tents sprouted up now. Harry was sure the number was far over three hundred thousand and immediately knew why Mr. Weasley and his godfather had to help rearrange seats. There was no telling how many more would show up by Apparating.  
  
As most of them looked to still be sleeping, Harry was able to peacefully make his way with Stone to the Fire Quidditch field (Stone, however, was stealing glances at Harry's forehead in set intervals).  
  
"Okay," began Stone, clasping his hands together and rubbing them excitedly, "we have the pre-game Snitch, Bludgers and Quaffle. They act just like the Fire Quidditch balls except they don't have the, well... hazards. The United States team is out here, too, on the other side of the field. We'll play a practice for an hour and then we stop and wait at our end of the field while everyone collects into the stands.  
  
"The rain is going to get heavier. Our Weather Witches predict a thunder storm but that doesn't bother anyone, right? Right! Now, get out there and kick some butt!"  
  
A wide grin crossed everyone's face as they mounted their brooms and flew off into the air. Within two minutes, England had scored a goal and Harry spotted the Snitch. Making sure not to lose it, he flattened himself on his Dragonback and barreled towards the Snitch. It had no chance. He zoomed past it but backed up and clutched his fist tightly around it.  
  
He would have to use his Ice Dragon spell to put the Bludgers out of commission and so he practiced casting it midair, aiming it at the speeding Bludgers. It worked every time, pelting the Bludger with a jet of ice and snowballs. The only worry he had was wondering whether this was enough to fizzle the Fire Quidditch Bludgers? Not caring enough at the moment, he proceeded to send the United States' Seeker rocketing off course each time as he spotted the Snitch.  
  
Harry noticed that the under the big scoreboard, there was now another board that was totally black. When practice ended an hour later, it showed random people from the crowd who were now filing into the stands.  
  
"Good luck, Harry!" someone called from the stands. He turned around to see Ron, Hermione, Viktor, Fleur... and Cho standing by England's hoops. Harry ran over immediately. The one speaking was Cho.  
  
None of them took notice, but the lower board was now showing the six of them. The whole stadium let out one, great, big "aww" when Cho forced Harry into a hug and gave him a good luck kiss on the cheek.  
  
He went a deep shade of red when the magnified voice of Mr. Bagman called out, "Has young Harry found true love in beautiful Miss Cho Chang? And don't forget, today is his sixteenth birthday!" Harry walked swiftly back, stumbling from embarassment, his apple-red face still visible to everyone. "Just under five hundred thousand of you have turned up! No pressure, Harry!  
  
"And now I'd like to welcome you to the International Ministry of Quidditch's 1997 Fire Quidditch game! Ladies and gentlemen, on the United States team we have Ghesi! Jacobs! Wools! Lander! McMera! Leslie! And Antoinelle!"  
  
As he called each name, the players rose from their place on the ground.  
  
"Playing for England we have - and may I remind you this is the youngest team ever to grace Fire Quidditch - Spinnet! Johnson! Quirrel! Quirrel! Wood! Bell! Aaaaaaaand Potter!"  
  
Harry rose up from the ground, reddening from the roar of clapping and screams ("GO POTTER!"), and took a look around to spot the Weasleys. Squinting, he could see them sitting in the Top Box, right next to the Dursleys, who seemed to not be enjoying themselves very much.  
  
"All the way from Egypt once again, our referee and Chairwizard from the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!"  
  
Harry watched closely as Mostafa let the fiery Bludgers and Spiked Snitch up and then moments later...  
  
"They're off!"  
  
Angelina, Katie and Alicia must have been practicing hard for this, it was like watching the Quidditch World Cup again. The three had no trouble handling the Quaffle that, when thrown, would gain unnatural speed. Bagman only had time to call out their names before the Quaffle was in new hands.  
  
"Spinnet! Bell! Johnson! Bell! Johnson! Spinnet! Johnson! Bell! Spinnet! Johnson! Spinnet! Bell! Spinnet! Bell! Excellent Quaffle passing to evade that sneaky United States Chaser! Oh my, I don't think the United States is going to win this year, either!"  
  
There were a few boos from United States supporters.  
  
Waiting impatiently was Harry, atop the middle of the field, dodging Bludgers from all directions as they passed by. The Snitch hadn't made it's grand appearance yet and the rain was getting heavier. Umbrellas began popping up all over. At the very least, the heavy rain was drenching Harry's robes and cooling him off from the hot air.  
  
Twenty minutes in, the United States had scored ten times to put the score at one hundred to ten. The rain continued to pour and within a half hour, every player looked like they had been swimming in the lake at Hogwarts. Every time a player accidently hit another, the resulting splash of water could fill a cup. For a while, The United States' score remained unchanged while England scored three times.  
  
Harry, unfortunately, was getting restless. Something to keep the United States Seeker on her toes? He looked around and spotted the other Seeker circling whoever had the Quaffle. Harry zoomed his way towards her, made sure she caught eye contact, rose a hundred feet into the air... and started a Wronski Feint.  
  
The other Seeker flew as fast as her Fireball let her to to catch up with Harry. She was looking around, Harry noticed, for the Snitch. Bolts of lightning streaked the sky and when one lit up the air to daylight, the golden glow of the Snitch caught his eye.  
  
Harry quickly pulled away from the dive, forgetting all about diverting the other Seeker and zoomed after it. He didn't notice that the entire stadium, including the players, was watching him.  
  
In no time, he felt a tremendous source of heat directly behind himself. Harry turned around to see a Bludger tailing him closely.  
  
He pulled out his wand and shouted, "Draconus iciclia!"  
  
Out of his wand came a small dragon made of ice and it began immediately pelting the Bludger with snowballs and a torrent of icy breath all to no effect. The Bludger caught speed, slamming right into the dragon and melting it, making it fall to the ground along with the rest of the rain. Harry kept his eye on the Snitch and tried the same method last year of enabling him to grab it.  
  
"Wingardium leviosa!"  
  
Nothing. The blades on the Snitch stayed as sharp and long as ever. Try again? "WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!" he thundered. The heat behind him grew more intense. Now another Bludger was tailing him. They weren't gaining on him but he wasn't losing them either and if he gave the Dragonback any more speed, he would find himself with the Snitch cutting into his chest.  
  
He had a tiny idea... but was it smart... ? Or stupid? If he numbed his hand, he could catch it, but he might lose a finger. It could be reattached... couldn't it? Another crack of lightning and the roaring thunder rumbled his ears. He couldn't use that somehow, could he? No, that's silly. How could he hope that lightning would hit the Snitch? Maybe if he made it rust- no... it would have rusted already.  
  
The Snitch made a sharp turn and started heading back towards the United States hoops. Their Seeker kept tail to tail with the Bludgers behind Harry. It seemed useless. He needed to disable the knives or the other Seeker would and catch it. It turned again, this time heading straight up. A lightning bolt cracked too close for comfort and the resulting rolling thunder made Harry twitch on his broom.  
  
This was getting ridiculous. Harry hesitated but decided that he should go with the original plan. He was no stranger to pain and odd injuries... Voldemort's snake, Nagini, had torn his leg off - a finger would be nothing. He put a hand as close to the Snitch as possible without touching it. The spinning blades whipped a torrent of air against the palm of his hand but how to prevent it from permanently tearing a finger off? He tried recalling the spell Dumbledore used to reattach a severed limb. What were those words? Res... Resart- um. Resartum membrum! He really didn't want to have to do this but there didn't seem to be an alternative...  
  
The Snitch made a U-turn for the ground for a few seconds then headed for the other end of the field. Harry thrusted his hand outwards again just before the Snitch and decided he better clean it first because if he's going to cut himself, the last thing he needs is for his hand to turn green from an infection. The back of his head kept telling him this was not a very good idea... The rain being full of dirt itself wasn't making matters better. Of course, what he really wanted was to stop the blades.  
  
He clenched his teeth, readied his hand and, not keen on the coming squirt of blood, pointed his wand at the Snitch and shouted, "Aquor!"  
  
It was something he didn't expect to happen.  
  
The clouds above turned black, black as night and thickened... right above his head. Several bolts of lightning loomed threateningly within the clouds until a moment later when one shot straight down... and right onto him.  
  
His body jerked, his eyes closed and his body went completely numb, unable to feel a thing. He felt something escape his hand nearest the Snitch but had no idea what it was. A sickening tearing sound filled his ears and he couldn't help that his hand felt magnetically attracted to it. Harry wrapped his fingers around it to stop it spinning and tearing his hand apart any more. His fingers felt nothing.  
  
Suddenly, the heat behind him died away.  
  
Feeling returned to his fingers slowly and he opened one eye half way, not daring to fully know what happened to his hand. The Snitch, he saw, had been scorched black. He opened the other eye. His hand was... perfectly fine! One of the blades of the Snitch was bent and torn to pieces. Harry halted his Dragonback and looked straight ahead.  
  
There was plenty of time to think about what happened because the entire stadium went silent. Harry gulped and looked around, wide-eyed, mouth open, breathing as heavy as ever. There was shock on every face.  
  
The atmosphere was reminiscent of when Harry first found out he was a Parselmouth, one who could talk to snakes. He had called off a snake that had gone after a fellow classmate. To him, he was speaking English; to everyone else, he was hissing. Salazar Slytherin was a Parselmouth and the ability to talk to snakes was considered a Dark art. Harry had gotten the ability from Voldemort...  
  
This was just another accident, right? This came from Voldemort too, right? Nothing bad would come of it? Of course, last time the whole of Hogwarts thought Harry to be an heir of Slytherin. The Chamber of Secrets, which was the home of a basilisk that kills by sight, had been opened. Only a Parselmouth could open the Chamber and command the snake and the fact that Harry could talk to snakes made the entire school believe he was the one doing it...  
  
Harry wished someone would do something... say something... or at the very least, move. All the eyes staring at him were creepy. He would hide himself, but where? It would look stupid. He turned to look at all the faces looking up at him. Nobody was moving. Nobody was speaking. It was like time had stopped. Feeling the blood rushing to his head and feeling distinctly hot in the face, he floated motionless in the air, not having a single idea. Something did tell him that, whatever he did, it wasn't exactly common even for a wizard.  
  
But suddenly, someone began to clap. Harry craned his head and looked for the source. Standing up next to Fudge was Albus Dumbledore. Despite the fact that his hands alone were clapping, the fact that someone broke the silence calmed Harry down tremendously.  
  
The rest of the stadium soon followed and the awkward moment faded away.  
  
"POTTER CATCHES THE SNITCH!" bellowed Mr. Fudge over the sound of hundreds of thousands of hands clapping. "ENGLAND WINS ONE HUNDRED NINETY TO ONE HUNDRED!"  
  
And as suddenly as Mr. Fudge had started to speak, Harry felt himself gradually calming down ever so slowly. A huge grin tore across Harry's face, his mouth open ear to ear. As Alicia, Angelina, Michelle, Thantanos, Oliver and Katie bumped lightly into him, the smile only grew bigger. Harry quickly forgot about what just happened and he couldn't tell if those were rain drops leaking down his cheeks or tears of joy.  
  
Harry gripped the Snitch by a blade and held it up with his free hand, catching the very distant eye of Cho. She was standing up along with Hermione, Ron, Viktor, Fleur, Sirius and the Weasleys, all lost for words and beaming, drenched from the rain. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were sitting under an umbrella, clapping only because they might get hurt if they didn't.  
  
Someone from the crowd was chanting, "A lightning bolt for the lightning scar! Potter for President!"  
  
It was like a dream, seeing hundreds of people standing up all over the crowd shouting his name. The board beneath the scores was showing the single image of Harry's hand on the Snitch, his fingers wrapped safely between the blades and his palm touching the edge of a flattened blade.  
  
As the mass of tangled bodies that was the England team sank to the ground, they all tumbled off their brooms. Thousands of people started to pour out from the stands but a bunch of wizards Apparated around the field to push them all back. Harry looked up to see flags for England fluttering in the wind (or perhaps from Wind Charms since they looked too wet to be doing that on their own).  
  
On the way back to the tent, with Sirius' hand on Harry's shoulder...  
  
"Potter! Potter! Can I can get autograph! Please?"  
  
"Um, okay." He went inside the tent, pink around the ears, signed a small slip of parchment and the girl tucked it inside her cloak as she left.  
  
And it didn't stop there.  
  
A bunch of giggling girls no older than Ginny dashed out from behind another tent. They carried a photograph of Harry's hand about to grab the Snitch. He was shocked to see that his hand was glowing a lightning blue and a zig zagging bot of lightning stretched between his hand and the Snitch. In no time at all, a line had formed all the way back to the woods and, Harry guessed, all the way from the Quidditch field.  
  
The rain had stopped at some point and he found his arm had nearly fallen asleep so he bewitched a quill to sign for him. This was much faster and the line went more quickly but a few people thought the quill wasn't going to be exactly like the real thing so every now and then, he was forced to sign by hand. He was very glad to see Cho wasn't among those on the line. If he had to sign something for her, Rita Skeeter would be there in a flash, embarassing him all over again.  
  
What seemed like one hundred thousand signatures later, Harry found sanctity in Mrs. Weasley shooing everyone away so they could have lunch in peace. While eating, the lightning came back to Harry immediately. When he had swallowed enough of the first bite of his hot dog, he asked about it.  
  
"I just tried to clean the stupid thing," said Harry. Sirius suddenly became very stern.  
  
"And what were you originally planning on doing?" He viciously tore his hamburger in half.  
  
"Thought I'd numb my hand and grab it then reattach any fingers," he said, smiling weakly. Sirius was none too happy. "Hey, I didn't have any other choice! The mark of ancients helped me bend and break off the blades last year and the stupid ice dragon wasn't enough to disable the Bludgers! But what was that? I didn't want that to happen!" Harry shouted frantically.  
  
Sirius broke into a smile.  
  
"Magic works by intention," he said, now with a less stern but a still serious look on his face. "You could have no wand at all and say nothing if you're trained well enough to focus on what you want to happen."  
  
Harry's weak smile turned into a look of great surprise. He actually managed to redirect lightning?  
  
By the redness of Hermione's face and severe look of trying to force down a smile, it was evident she already knew this.  
  
"The wand movements and words just help you to focus better," said Sirius. "Look at Albus Dumbledore. He rarely uses a wand but then again, he's the best trained wizard of our time." He paused for a moment, apparently in deep thought about whether to say what he had on his mind or not. "There are a some things that do more than help you focus magic. Staves, for example, are known to increase magic ability way beyond normal."  
  
"But... I mean... I made a lightning bolt hit me? And it didn't hurt me at all..."  
  
"Controlling lightning was long thought to be a dead part of the Dark arts, hence the reaction from everyone," said Sirius grimly but then he smiled.  
  
"I thought the reaction I got about being a Parselmouth was bad..."  
  
"There's a bit more to you than anyone knows yet. Can't exactly say what. We do know that your mom's sacrifice prevented Voldemort from touching your skin but no one knows yet how you're seemingly immune to Avada Kedavra." He stuck a thoughtful pickle in his mouth and bit the end off.  
  
"The ancients... could they use strong magic without the mark?" asked Harry.  
  
"Nope," said Sirius definitively. "Most of them could barely use levitation charms and basic hexes but give them the mark and they were casting Clades Ultimus. Having it in you does nothing unless it's active."  
  
Was a weaker form of the mark of ancients still lingering in him? He had to ask himself, because otherwise how would he explain that lightning bolt. Sure, he really didn't want to have to mangle his hand but how could he ever have hoped a lightning bolt would magnetically bend and attract the Snitch to his hand? Briefly, he thought that he was just becoming the great wizard everyone expected him to be, and yet...  
  
The Weasleys were all quietly munching on their food, not saying a word. Hermione looked like she was ready to burst out with something and Harry was glad she hadn't yet. But that wasn't going to last long...  
  
"I can only imagine what you could do with a staff!" shrieked Hermione.  
  
Mr. Ollivander had been talking about staves and now Sirius was going on about them too. Sirius caught the look on Harry's face and his hopes of getting one were shot down yet again.  
  
"Don't get your hopes up," Sirius said while shaking his head, clearly saying "no." "Staves were banned by a meeting around 382 B.C. Old Ollivander's ancestors set up a shop in preparation for the hoarde of wizards and witches who had to trade their staff in for a wand."  
  
Ron piped up, forgetting about the large helping of hot dog bun in his mouth.  
  
"Mr. Ollivander's carrying staves now. They're three feet long and-" Mr. Weasley shook his head disapprovingly.  
  
"Special order from Mr. Fudge. He told you that and I know because he sent me an owl after you three left." Mr. Weasley turned his head to Mrs. Weasley who had something more to add.  
  
"And besides, staves take a great deal of practice to use. You could end up striking yourself dead if you don't control it!" Ron grunted, swallowing the bread in his mouth.  
  
"Those little three foot long sticks in his shop?" said Harry, amazed. "Don't use them right and they can end up killing you?"  
  
"Yes!" shouted Mrs. Weasley in a high-pitched whine which made Aunt Petunia jump. She turned to Ron. "Your father had to carry a few! Tried to use a simple spell!" Mr. Weasley rolled up his sleeve to show a burn mark just above his elbow.  
  
"Damn fire scorched me instead. They have minds of their owns, staves do... If you just look at one wrong it'll curse you," he added, muttering.  
  
Mr. Weasley then forced the conversation back onto Quidditch and how the United States might finally give up. They did come to the conclusion that more countries might start to take part in Fire Quidditch. Harry gave the thought that the field would have to be made bigger again to accommodate a new wave of people. Five hundred thousand turned up, selling out all of the International Ministry of Quidditch's tickets... Then again, the United States would be quite angry to lose twice to a sixteen-year-old... but after all, that sixteen-year-old is Harry Potter.  
  
For dinner, Dumbledore and Mr. Fudge arranged a birthday celebration with the biggest cake Harry had ever seen -- it was the size of several Hagrids put together. It didn't look like anyone left yet as tens of thousands of people scrambled to get a piece of luxurious cake: white with sparkly golden lettering spelling out "Harry James Potter" in two-foot-tall letters. The scar was drawn across it with red and the scar tasted good, too.  
  
"Harry," said Ron, "you never told us your middle name." Harry could never deny to himself that, despite the fact that he never really knew his parents except for the few hours a few months ago, he held a certain respect for them. As such, he was quite proud of his middle name.  
  
All throughout the evening, he could hear people recounting their time with his parents. It made his heart jump and left him with a feeling of unsurmountable joy. Harry lost count of the number of times someone pulled him over by the scruff of the neck to let him hear a story they were telling someone about James or Lily. He had all the reason in the world to be proud of both of them because everyone here seemed to know them.  
  
Many, many times did someone ask him about the week in the forest alone and all his bouts with Voldemort. The only thing that really bothered him was the fact that everyone called him "Mr. Potter" and not just "Harry."  
  
Much later, when all the yelling and screaming had finally died down, Harry put his glasses down on his bedside table, removed the Order of Merlin necklace and got into bed. Just then it occured to him, hands folded under his head, that things were going great lately. He had this conversation with himself before and things turned very nasty just a short time later... You had to be blind and deaf, though, to not notice that his life had greatly improved since Sirius moved in. He tried to not let the previous thought bother him as he tried to fall asleep.  
  
The unfortunate realization that something again was going to happen at Hogwarts, as it had every year, wasn't letting go. Harry gripped his covers and closed his eyes. Whatever was coming was sure taking it's time and the longer it took to come, the better. Just like Mr. Weasley had told him to do once, he put it out of his mind. He had just too good of a day to worry about it much. 


	7. Chasing the Puffskein

Chapter 7: CHASING THE PUFFSKEIN  
  
The very next morning, by the time Harry woke up, there was another line of people standing outside their tent. Mrs. Weasley had apparently let him sleep until midday and the line just kept getting bigger and bigger. He wouldn't have minded so much except there were plenty of cameras trying to take a shot of him asleep...  
  
Mrs. Weasley shooed them all away and Harry was grateful for it... He had something to eat and then they were off to the Burrow, the Weasley house.  
  
They arrived just in time for dinner. After finally getting down to having a peaceful birthday without half a million people screaming in his ear, Harry got another shock.  
  
"Your aunt and uncle have something to give you!" said Mrs. Weasley to Harry as they finished eating. She then gave Uncle Vernon a stern look. Whatever he was about to give, he didn't look too happy about it. A birthday present? Well, they have been acting strangely lately...  
  
Uncle Vernon walked out and returned with a small, purple bag. He gave it to Harry and forced out a "Happy birthday" along with Aunt Petunia.  
  
Harry weighed it. It seemed heavy, too heavy for just a toothpick or a wad of ear wax. They already sent him some socks (a pair of smelly old ones from Uncle Vernon) and Sirius would probably turn them into dung beetles if they sent him another napkin. Was there a card inside? A single and some change maybe? Perhaps he could exchange Muggle money for a silver Sickle or something.  
  
"Open it already," said Aunt Petunia.  
  
He put a hand inside and grabbed a small, light, black box that was about four inches high and two wide. Inside this box was where all the weight was, all right. He pulled the top off.  
  
Harry's mouth fell to the floor, burrowed itself all the way through the planet and came out the other side. When it returned to the kitchen, it moved without sound for a moment and he swore his heart stopped beating too. When it started again, his voice returned as well.  
  
"A - a real present?" He looked up at his aunt, flabbergasted. She didn't change the look on her face so he turned to look at Sirius, who was already smiling.  
  
He looked down at it again. It was just a gold wristwatch, a very handsome, gold wristwatch. The band and face were both made of gold. Every other segment of the band was white gold as well as the lock at the ends. To Harry, it was more than a watch, it was a turning point.  
  
Yes, he thought, Snape would be giving out sweets this year, Voldemort would make an apology on national radio, Professor Trelawney would stop predicting his death and Professor McGonagall would take her hair out of that infernal bun.  
  
Harry tore apart the casing and pulled it out. He just sort of stared at it for a while. It was still just a handsome, gold wristwatch. Harry's old watch became waterlogged during the second task of the Triwizard Tournament two years ago and wore it out of habit even though it was broken. Never, did he think, would the replacement come from the Dursleys.  
  
He finally put it on.  
  
"We all chipped in but they paid slightly more," said Sirius. "It's twenty-four karat gold. Mechanical so it works at Hogwarts. And just to be sure, it's got an unbreakable Water Proof Charm," he added, smirking.  
  
There was also a birthday card inside the bag with everyone's name on it.  
  
Harry continued to stare at it later that night in Ron's room. The Dursleys, Sirius and Harry were to stay for one last night, have breakfast, then go back home.  
  
"It's just a watch, Harry," said Ron, rolling his eyes.  
  
"No, no. You don't understand," Harry explained. "When I was eleven, Dudley was about to go into a fit because his parents only got him thirty-seven birthday presents."  
  
"THIRTY-SEVEN?" Ron bellowed.  
  
"And they had to buy him two more when we went to the zoo. Now that I rememeber, that was the first time I ever went to a zoo," Harry added dreamily. He shook his head, remembering what happened next. "That was when I set the boa constrictor loose." He then giggled at his own feat. "I didn't think I could hate anyone more until I met Draco Malfoy. I hope both of them drop dead."  
  
"Me too," Ron agreed.  
  
Harry took off both his necklace and watch, laying the necklace neatly in the middle of the watch. He now had three things he treasured most: his Dragonback, the Order of Merlin necklace and a handsome, gold wristwatch. He was getting quite a collection of extravagant jewelry. What was next, an ear ring? He frowned at the thought. It looked good on Bill, but not on himself.  
  
The entire summer has gone excellently so far aside from the small hiccup with Cho in front of half a million people (he would never forget how red his face went). Best of all, this summer was finally a real vacation. For a fleeting moment - and it was a very strange feeling - if for some odd reason Hogwarts blew up, he wouldn't mind the current living arrangements.  
  
But Harry's heart had been floating on clouds for the past month and he couldn't care about that. He scrunched up his pillows and crawled into bed.  
  
The final month of summer vacation had gone just as smoothly as the first month. An article turned up in the Daily Prophet about the win against the United States written by Rita Skeeter. Ever since Hermione found out that Rita had been illegaly searching Hogwarts grounds two years ago for news stories, she seemed to have been behaving nicely...  
  
Harry continued to mark off the days on his calendar until his return to Hogwarts. At three weeks left he received the letter with all the books required.  
  
SIXTH-YEAR STUDENTS WILL REQUIRE:  
  
The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6 by Miranda Goshawk  
Monster Book of Monsters, Grade 4 by Rubeus Hagrid  
The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, Revised by Adelwyn Aladi  
Unfogging the Future, Advanced by Sibyll Trelawney  
Wonderful World of Magical History by E. Lundi  
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, Revised by Phyllidia Spore  
Moste Potente Potions, Revised by Severus Snape  
Herbology and Beyond by Phyllidia Spore  
Master Guide to Transfiguration by Minerva McGonagall  
Harry Potter: Lucky or Legendary by Fleur Delacour  
The Power of Healing, Grade 2 by Petunia Dursley  
  
Two of these, of course, caught Harry by surprise. Fleur Delacour would finally be working at Hogwarts like she said she would two years ago. That last book, Power of Healing, Grade 2, by who? No, can't be. There's another woman out there, a witch, named Petunia Dursley. And what about Hagrid. Hagrid wrote a book? Fleur must have had to write one as a graduation requirement or something...  
  
Harry went with Sirius to Diagon Alley to buy the books. The Monster book of Monsters Grade 4, thankfully, didn't bite like the first one did. Ron and Hermione met them there. They, too, wanted to know if Harry's aunt was a witch...  
  
Should he bring the list to his aunt? What would she do? No, he knew. She would just say there's a witch that has her name, that he should never show her things from his school and send him back up to his room. What a question that was!  
  
Two and a half weeks left (he really wanted to know if his aunt used to be a witch)... Two weeks left (Harry started to avoid her)... One and a half (she would just get upset)... One week until the first of September (Harry didn't go to sleep until three in the morning)... Four days left (Sirius would know)... Two days left (Ron and Hermione were badgering him to ask)...  
  
Sirius, Harry and Uncle Vernon (thankfully not Aunt Petunia) drove to King's Cross. Sirius would come stay at Hogwarts as he and Snape had to perform a check-up to see how close Sirius was to a full recovery. Best of all, next year Sirius and Harry would be able to move out of the Dursley's and into, Sirius suggested, Harry's old house. He was positively exploding with happiness at the idea but Dumbledore would have to agree first. The start of a normal life, he thought, at last.  
  
On the Hogwarts Express, Sirius took a compartment with the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, which they all knew was Fleur Delacour at this point. Ron, Harry and Hermione took a compartment for themselves. As there was nothing interesting going on, Harry decided he ought to do what he hadn't been doing lately since he read his book list: sleep.  
  
The train ride was uneventful. That made four years out of six Harry got to see the Sorting and eat at the feast. As expected, sitting up at the staff table next to Snape, was Fleur Delacour who graduated from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic two years ago. By the look on Ron's face, there was no doubt he still fancied her as much as he did two years ago. Harry rolled his eyes and dug into the chicken that appeared in front of him.  
  
"So what d'you think is going to happen this year?" asked Harry.  
  
"Nothing, I hope," said Ron, stuffing his face full of pork chops, staring up at Fleur.  
  
"I can't believe the book they made us get. 'Harry Potter: Lucky or Legendary,'" said Hermione. "They're going to use any bit of the book in whatever class -"  
  
"Defense Against the Dark Arts -" said Harry.  
  
"- it's used in?" finished Hermione, ignoring Harry.  
  
"All I know is that it's going to be embarassing."  
  
Embarassing wasn't the word for it. Defense Against the Dark Arts was the first class they had the very next morning.  
  
"'Arry," began Fleur, but she couldn't keep a straight face. Everyone had just sat down and class just began and it didn't look like Fleur would be able to look at Harry ever again.  
  
It was very hard for him to pick up the book from Flourish and Blott's in the first place. There, sitting in the window, were hundreds of copies of the book all of which were, as noted by the date, finished only two months ago. They were on special order for Hogwarts students -- there weren't enough copies made to go around to everyone yet. On the front cover was a picture that, for once, didn't move and that was because it was hand-drawn, taking up the entire front cover. At the very top were the words Harry Potter, and at the bottom, Lucky or Legendary.  
  
The artist took great care in posing Harry's face carefully. His hair was parted at the bangs, an accurate depiction of the real scar easily viewable. Harry's facial expression in the drawing, unfortunately, was showing him grinning, almost evilly. He was standing sideways, his wand clutched like a knife over his head, his other hand stretched out in front, looking ready to duel. Most embarassing of all perhaps was not his stance but that he was dressed in the bloodied robes he found himself wearing while dead, missing his soul, for a week last summer.   
  
It was public knowledge that most pictures of Harry from the wizarding world were hard to come by as the most you ever saw was an arm or an ear. This drawing would go down in history.  
  
Knowing exactly what Fleur wanted, because she kept pointing her finger at the first page of Harry Potter: Lucky or Legendary, Harry took a deep breath, sighed loudly, took another deep breath and began reading aloud,   
  
"'Be it luck or by skill? Was it his well-known mother, Lily Potter, that protected him from death or is it something that has yet to be discovered?  
  
"'Wizards and witches the world over know of the story. Harry Potter, at age one, survived the Killing Curse with nothing happening to him but a lightning-shaped scar appearing on his forehead. This curse is, of course, unblockable and the only way to not die from it is to hurl oneself from it's path unless your name happens to be Harr-' Can someone else read this?" said Harry in a much louder voice and sounding (and feeling) highly distressed.  
  
Hermione, to his relief, took over at once.  
  
"'Unless your name happens to be Harry Potter. Only some details have been fleshed out and it has been long thought the young man holds undiscovered magic. His deeds are many and his triumphs are great but let us take a quick overview of some of them.  
  
"'At the age of eleven, Harry and two fiends, Hermione Granger-'" and she went very pink "'- and Ronald Weasley-'" he, too, went very pink "'-took it upon themselves to stop He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named from acquiring the Philosopher's Stone from Hogwarts. Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley helped young Harry get to a chamber deep underground where he encountered He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. When nearly being strangled to death, he discovered He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's host, one Professor Quirrel, could not touch his skin. This held off He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named until Albus Dumbledore could come to the rescue. This, as has been agreed, was pure luck on Potter's part. It is known that his mother's sacrifice prevented Quirrel from touching young Harry. It is undeniable, however, that not many students might try such a thing, including many adult wizards and witches.  
  
"'A year later, Potter found himself, again with the help of Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, face to face with a giant basilisk in Hogwarts School of Withcraft and Wizardry's mythical Chamber of Secrets. While arguing with a spirit of Tom Riddle, who early in life became He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Potter showed true faithfulness to Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes, came to Potter's rescue with the school Sorting Hat which contained a blade of Godric Gryffindor. Fawkes disabled the basilisk's method of attack and, though the mentioned is also believed to be luck, not many twelve year olds would find enough courage in themselves to take on a snake of that size with just a sword. Potter killed the basilisk and destroyed the spirit of Tom Riddle which was bound to a diary.'"  
  
At this point, Harry was so red that he sunk into his chair, covered his face with his hands and covered the scar with his bangs. Hermione's and Ron's face were just as red as Harry's. Neither of them expected to hear their names.  
  
"'In his fourth year at Hogwarts, Cedric Diggory and Harry Potter had both been tricked by Bartemius Crouch Jr. The Triwizard Tournament was held at Hogwarts that year and the Triwizard Cup had been turned into a Portkey. Diggory was killed by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Thus was the second coming of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named when one of his followers, thought to be dead, Peter Pettigrew, performed illegal Necromancy. Young Potter, with an extraordinary will to come out alive, ended up facing the rare effect of Priori Incantatem instead of meeting the front end of another Avada Kedavra. If two wands with the same core are forced to fight, they form a cage of light, encasing the owners. A small burst of light must be sent to one of the two wands and that wand will be forced to regurgitate shadows of people it has killed in reverse order. Needless to say, Potter met the shadows of Diggory, Bertha Jorkins, Muggle Frank Bryce and of course Lily and James Potter. He escaped death from He-Who-Must-'"  
  
"I'm not listening to any more of this," said Harry hotly, leaning forward, still hiding his face.  
  
"Ze 'eadmaster asked me to cover zis material," said Fleur calmly. This did not give Harry much choice. "I vould not ask anyone to read a book I wrote in my own class unless I 'ad to." She had a point.  
  
And then she smiled.  
  
"Vould you like to tell us more details about any of zis events? Perhaps how you vere able to figure various zings out?" Harry took his face out of his hands and noticed the entire classes was looking at him, all except Ron and Hermione. "I do believe zat you are holding magic zat has not yet been discovered. Part of zis class is to find zat out. Zat, and much of vat you haff done is ze work of an Auror."  
  
The effect of Fleur's small speech and the text from the book on Harry was incredible. He was about to put the scenario in that Fire Quidditch game out with the bad memories of living with the Dursleys, he had completely forgotten his first four years at Hogwarts, this past summer and was ready to lay to rest all the reasons that gave him the Order of Merlin necklace. But, gold wristwatch glinting in Neville Longbottom's eye, all the thoughts that he swore were in a Pensieve came rushing back... and they were just as unpleasant as the first time around.  
  
He grabbed the plaque on his necklace against his chest for self-comfort and, with Ron and Hermione's help, began explaining their methods of figuring out the mysteries starting with the Philosopher's Stone.  
  
Let it be known, the fact that he wanted to know whether he was just very lucky or holding undiscovered magic aside, that he did not enjoy his first lesson with Fleur.  
  
That afternoon, Hagrid was overcome with joy at the fact that his book got published. It covered everything he ever taught and more, which of course he would be teaching. Harry was reminded heavily of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. He glanced at the chapter listing and saw some items he wished weren't there:  
  
Six - Mountain-troll  
Seven - Dementor  
Eight - Balrog  
  
There were some creatures he might like to see:  
  
Nine - Forest Fairy  
Ten - Centaur  
Eleven - Puffskein  
  
"I got me some help from Newt Scamander an' him and I wrote this book," said Hagrid brightly, coming out from his hut. "Got it published just over the summer!"  
  
Care of Magical Creatures was still with the Slytherins. Malfoy wasted no time in bickering.  
  
"What are we doing first, Hagrid, Nundus or Manticores?"  
  
Hagrid frowned.  
  
"What's a whatever-you-call-it?" Harry whispered to Hermione.  
  
"A Nundu is the most dangerous creature known. They look like giant leopards and their breath can kill you. Takes a hundred wizards to manage just one!" she whispered back, having already memorized the book. "Manticores aren't much less deadly."  
  
"I dont think I want ter have a Nundu as a pet, Malfoy, but I'll try hard ter get yeh a manticore!" chortled Hagrid. It was enough to shut Malfoy up. "Now, gimme a minute while I get summat from me hut." Hagrid disappeared inside his hut and returned with another box. He liked to put things in boxes. This only caused confusion and sometimes fear as even the smallest of creatures can grow to be very dangerous. Inside this boxes, thankful to say, were some of the cutest animals Harry ever laid eyes on. Hagrid went back and pulled out more when he saw the huge smile on everyone's face.  
  
Spherical in shape and covered in custard colored fur, there were about three to a box. They looked rather like fur balls. In their mouths, they had dull teeth. One of them kept sticking it's tongue up at Pansy Parkinson.  
  
"Puffskeins! Go on, pick one up. They don' bite, but they may stick a tongue up yer nose and try ter eat yer boogies," said Hagrid as if there was nothing odd about it. "They don' mind bein' thrown about either. So much fur they lan' with a sof' thud."  
  
They were softer to the touch than a tuft of feathers. Harry picked one up and put it to his face only to feel something thin, wet and long crawl up his nose. The puffskein had indeed tried to pull a boogie out of it. Harry looked over at Pansy again and noticed there was a boogie hanging out of her nose. He tapped Ron and Hermione on the shoulder and they watched as Harry threw his puffskein and it landed right on Pansy's face. She struggled to get it off and when she did, the boogie was gone. Harry, Ron and Hermione sniggered and went up to Hagrid.  
  
"Can we keep one?" asked Hermione. "They're so cute." Hagrid looked shocked at her request.  
  
"You actually want ter keep one?"  
  
"Why? They don't breath fire, do they?" asked Hermione anxiously.  
  
"No, 's just that - just that I didn't expect anyone ter like them so much! Sure, yeh can keep one."  
  
"Why not? They're adorable!" Adorable wasn't the word. If you cuddled one of them, they cuddled back, their soft fur warm to the touch.  
  
"Just wait till the end of class an' I'll let yeh pick one. On'y one! Yer not supposed ter have any pets other than an owl, cat or toad. They're low maintenence. Just stick 'em in a corner and they'll eat anythin'. Just watch out. They like to eat yer boogies while yer asleep. 'S their favorite." Hagrid grinned broadly. He wouldn't cover a creature unless there was something odd about it, it was just Hagrid's way...  
  
"I'm not going to survive Fleur's classes," said Harry later that night in the Gryffindor commons. It was late at night and they were the only ones still left. Harry had the puffskein they picked out, a particularly fuzzy and cuddly one, in his lap and it was munching on dead spiders from his hand. The spiders didn't bother anyone but Ron who had been staring at them ever since he took one of the squashy armchairs farthest from Harry as possible.  
  
"Now she's Professor Delacour," said Hermione hotly. Crookshanks, Hermione's cat, looked ready to pounce the puffskein in Harry's lap any minute.  
  
"Do you have to feed that thing spiders?" asked Ron, eyeing them nervously.  
  
"It found them, not me," said Harry, denying any responsibility. "I mean, is this class really necessary? I would have run out the door but she probably would have taken an obscene amount of points from Gryffindor."  
  
"No she wouldn't," said Ron quietly.  
  
"It's embarassing!" yelled Harry.  
  
"You're not going to find out any other way," assured Hermione. "You're the topic of so many meetings worldwide and-" Harry gave Hermione a glare that made her fall silent. He went back to keeping an eye on the puffskein.  
  
"I think I'll call it Hedwig Junior - kidding! Just kidding!" Hedwig could be heard hooting loudly from the sixth years' dormitory. "What d'you think of the name Cappy?"  
  
"Cappy?" repeated Ron. The puffskein rolled around in delight.  
  
"Cappy it is," said Harry brightly. Cappy finished the last of the spiders, rolled onto the floor and began to rock back and forth oddly at Harry's feet.  
  
"These are really weird creatures," said Hermione staring at the puffskein. "Cute... but really weird."  
  
"Hey!" Harry half shouted, half whispered. "Where's it going!" The puffskein decided to wander towards the portrait hole. With a great leap, it pushed the portrait hole open and went outside. "Come back here!" hissed Harry. He grabbed his wand from a table and stuffed it into his pocket.  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione got up from their chairs and climbed through the portrait hole.  
  
"Cappy," hissed Ron, "come back here!" Cappy continued down the corridor. Harry, Ron and Hermione broke into a run as the puffskein rolled down a corridor at the end.  
  
"Where's it going!" hissed Hermione.  
  
"I don't know but let's just hope we don't get caught," Ron hissed back. "Once, that's it! One more time and it's going back to Hagrid!"  
  
Cappy did an about-face and slipped right through Harry's fingers, heading towards the stairs. They chased it all way to the third floor corridor.  
  
"Last time we were here we found Fluffy," said Ron nervously.  
  
They stopped at the door leading into Fluffy's room and watched open-mouthed as Cappy unlocked the door with it's own magic and slipped inside. There were no growls, no gross ripping sounds or banging noises. The three paused for a minute.  
  
"You think it's safe... in there?" asked Hermione.  
  
"I went down here last year," said Harry calmly. "Got bored one night. It was empty. There's nothing in there."  
  
"Are you... sure?"  
  
"Yes now let's go," he hissed. Harry pulled on Ron and Hermione's wrists and they walked unnerved down the third floor corridor with him.  
  
"But it was locked," gulped Ron.  
  
"Come on!" He dragged them to the door and poked a head inside.  
  
Harry turned to Ron, glared at him and then stepped inside. Ron and Hermione followed when Harry signaled it was clear. Cappy was no where to be seen. Hermione stomped a foot and growled.  
  
"Where did it go?" she said looking all around. Harry pointed at the trap door which was wide open. "I refuse," she said, folding her arms.  
  
"Fine," said Harry gruffly. "But I'm going after it. It's not like I haven't been in deadly situations before," he added glaring at Hermione again.  
  
Hermione bit her lip then stepped closer. She didn't say anything but Harry knew she had changed her mind, however reluctant the decision was.  
  
"Ron?"  
  
"Fine."  
  
"Accio Dragonback," said Harry, holding his wand out. Within seconds, his broom came flying in front of him. "I bet you my entire vault at Gringott's every spell and enchantment they used to protect that stupid stone is gone. Engorgio. Each of us hang from a ledge and keep a hand on the Dragonback. I'll lower us in."  
  
That part of the plan went smoothly. For a brief moment, he thought of what looked to be another death-defying, Dursley-annoying moment. Down at the bottom, it was pitch black except for a small candle in the center of the room where the Devil's Snare used to be.  
  
"Umm, Harry, wh-what's that growling noise?" asked Hermione.  
  
"I say we just find Cappy and get out of here," replied Harry. "How's that sound?"  
  
"Best plan you've had all night," said Ron, talking very fast. "Lumos!"  
  
The tips of their wands glowed brightly. None of them took notice, but Harry's was glowing the brightest.  
  
"The growling stopped," said Hermione.  
  
"Weird," said Ron.  
  
"Quiet you two," hissed Harry. "There, that furball rolling on the floor," he added, pointing at Cappy. "STUPID PUFFSKEIN! COME BACK!" He tore down the stone passageway leading to where the flying keys were. Cappy bounced off the floor and banged into the door hard, knocking it down. "I'm going to make it live with my aunt and uncle when I catch it," Harry said hotly. And then Harry heard something that made him freeze.  
  
"Vernon," someone was saying in a quivering voice, "look at the address -- how could they possibly know where he sleeps? You don't think they're watching the house?"  
  
"A-aunt Petunia?" said Harry, creeping forward. It was coming from where the giant chess set was.  
  
"Watching - spying - might be following us," muttered Uncle Vernon wildly.  
  
Harry grabbed the Order of Merlin plaque dangling from his neck. This, for some odd reason, gave him lots of comfort. He, Ron and Hermione entered the room with the giant chess board. It was still intact but they could see Uncle Vernon's shiny black shoes pacing up and down, the chess pieces on the sides. This unnerved the three of them greatly.  
  
"But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don't want --"  
  
Harry turned to look at Ron and Hermione. Both of them were staring nonplussed at the figures of Mr. and Mrs. Dursley.  
  
"What the -" started Harry, but he couldn't finish.  
  
"No," Uncle Vernon said. "No, we'll ignore it. If they don't get an answer... Yes, that's best... we won't do anything..."  
  
"But --" started Aunt Petunia.  
  
"I'm not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn't we swear when we took him in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?"  
  
The two of them vanished while Harry's eyes were closed during a blink. Harry's grip on the plaque loosened to the point of letting go as he looked around the room.  
  
Dumbfounded, Harry found a moment's sanity and spotted Cappy. He snatched her up; she was munching on a rock. "On the Dragonback!" Harry ordered.  
  
They flew as fast as Harry could manage out through the flying key room, out to the Devil's Snare room, through the trapdoor, locking Fluffy's room and stayed on the Dragonback all the way to the Fat Lady's portrait.  
  
"I'm not going to ask," the Fat Lady said, staring at the Dragonback.  
  
"Good," Harry panted, "don't. Password's Flobberworm. Reducio," he added pointing his wand at the Dragonback. She swung open to admit them.  
  
"Don't ask me what that was," said Hermione flatly as they all slouched into armchairs. "What were they doing there? They didn't notice us at all! Harry, what was that? What were they talking about?"  
  
"My Aunt's a witch, I guess," said Harry, holding Cappy very firmly in his hands. "But, they said exactly that five years ago." He gave Hermione a very distressed look. "When I got my acceptance letter - did I ever tell you this?" Ron shook his head. Harry grabbed the plaque again. He put his free hand on top of Cappy and played with the fur between his fingers. "They just wanted to ignore it, figured if they didn't bother, if it seemed like I didn't want to go... First they tried to get me out of the cupboard because they knew they were being spied on. Still got letters. Then we moved to a hotel. Got more letters there. Then we moved to some stupid hut out at sea. That's when Hagrid finally came to get me."  
  
He let go of the plaque and stood up quickly, tossing Cappy onto the floor. Cappy wandered over to Hermione and rolled around by her leg.  
  
"Good night," he muttered at the shocked faces of Ron and Hermione and climbed the stairs.  
  
Ron and Hermione only spoke again when Harry was out of earshot.  
  
"Really desperate to stop him from coming, weren't they?" said Hermione.  
  
"What do you think?" asked Ron.  
  
"I don't know." They exchanged dark looks. Hermione snatched Cappy and put her (at least, Hagrid said it was a her) in a temporary cage. Cappy would be locked up at all times from then on.  
  
Up in his room, Harry changed into pajamas and laid his watch and necklace on his bedside table then shut the curtains of his four-post bed tightly. Mr. Weasley's words came in handy again. "Put it out of your mind, Harry," he had said. Harry took the very good advice for a third time. 


	8. Ron's Prediction

Chapter 8: RON'S PREDICTION  
  
As Harry predicted, Defense Against the Dark Arts only got worse as another class loomed.  
  
"When are we going to finish this," said Harry whose head was now covered by the textbook with himself on the cover. Professor Delacour didn't answer, she just kept going over theories as to how one might survive an Avada Kedavra. When the bell rang ten minutes later, Harry was the first out the door.  
  
"At least her English is improving," said Ron. It was a feeble attempt to cheery Harry up.  
  
"Come on, I'm hungry," he said, and then walked silently to the Great Hall for lunch as Ron and Hermione tried to get him to speak.  
  
Peeves, the school poltergeist, swept past them in the entrance hall muttering something about how he wished he had a scar on his forehead, too.  
  
"Ignore him," said Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost. He was a fair-aged wizard who, in an unfortunate accident involving an axe hitting his neck over forty times, died without a proper decapitation. "Argus has been trying to get him thrown out for years."  
  
"I know," said Harry, "and he hasn't succeeded yet. It's the only thing everyone agrees with him on."  
  
"Is Potter moping around again?" someone yelled from the Slytherin table. Lunch hadn't started yet so the Great Hall was empty except, of course, for Malfoy and his henchmen, Crabbe and Goyle and Harry, Ron and Hermione.  
  
Harry began to slightly overtake Draco Malfoy in height but this was just a minor setback in Malfoy's plans to further upset Harry.  
  
Nearly Headless Nick zoomed over to Malfoy. Harry didn't watch, but when Nick came back, he was wearing a smirk. By the looks on Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, Nick had shown them why he was called Nearly Headless Nick. Nick had indeed shown Harry, Ron and Hermione in their first year during the Sorting Feast and it was no pretty sight to behold.  
  
"You didn't..." scowled Hermione.  
  
Nearly Headless Nick winked at Harry.  
  
Quidditch practice would start again soon. That night after dinner, Harry would resume his position as "the best Seeker since Charlie Weasley," according to Professor McGonagall. "In fact, better! Weasley, you're going to stay as team captain I hope?" she added to Ron. Harry and Ron were in Professor McGonagall's classroom with Kylie Randal, a Beater, and Craig Stone, their Keeper.  
  
"Yes," replied Ron, beaming.  
  
"Good, good." She clapped her hands in delight. "Now, unfortunately our excellent Chasers Johnson, Spinnet and Bell were all in their seventh year. Saturday morning, report to the Quidditch field after breakfast. There will be one Gryffindor fourth year, two fifth and one sixth all who wish to become Chasers."  
  
"Not a very wide select-" started Ron but,  
  
"-tion I know but you will find three who fit the bill."  
  
Potions started out on a good note and it looked like Snape and Sirius were on speaking terms. This all changed abruptly.  
  
"You will cut up the dragon heart and place HALF OF THE STRIPS in a temporary cauldron," Snape was explaining. There was a vein throbbing in his head. He clearly thought someone was going to mess this up. "Pour a quarter cup of bezoar into your first cauldron. You will then squeeze the juice out of your Nundu tongue into the temporary cauldron. DO - NOT - MESS - THIS - UP as Nundus are highly dangerous creatures and I was lucky to be able to obtain such a rare potion ingredient. Cut the tongue up and place all of it in your first cauldron. Stir up the temporary cauldron, let both sit for thirty minutes and pour the temporary cauldron into the first cauldron. Let it sit for fifteen minutes and put the second half of dragon heart strips into the cauldron. This completes the potion.  
  
"Four to a potion. Weasley, Potter, Granger... you will assist Longbottom. This potion cures almost any poison and almost any disease."  
  
As the class collected the ingredients, Snape wrote the directions onto the blackboard.  
  
"This stuff is disgusting," said Hermione. She held up a dragon heart in her hand as Harry cut it.  
  
"Maybe we can poison Snape and when he's about to die, give him some of this," suggested Harry. "Oh and Neville, just don't do anything except the pouring. We'll hand you the cups and tell you exactly where to pour them, okay?" Neville nodded. "If all goes right, this potion will end up perfect and I can poison him tomorrow afternoon." Harry grinned as he threw half of the dragon heart strips into their first cauldron. He didn't see, but Hermione was giving him a disgusted look.  
  
"Oh come on, Hermione," said Ron. "He was just joking." She was now giving Ron that same look.  
  
"Here Neville, pour this into that cauldron," Hermione told him, handing him a quarter cup of bezoar. All three of them watched to make sure Neville didn't mess up and he didn't -- yet.  
  
"Now what?" said Ron.  
  
"Look up at the blackboard, Ron," said Hermione rolling her eyes. "It's all written down." She turned to Harry. "You squeeze the juice out of that tongue, I don't think my lunch will last."  
  
He did so, picturing it was Snape's, into the temporary cauldron.  
  
"I thought carving flesh and using our blood was disgusting but these tongues are downright nasty," said Ron. A Nundu tongue was about as long as Harry's arm and black in color with a hint of red about it. Harry folded it over itself and squeezed as hard as he could. Hermione turned away. Harry kept picturing it to be Snape's tongue.  
  
"I think that's all of it," said Harry brightly. "Good, now there's no need to worry it was squeezed into the wrong cauldron."  
  
"Ha!" said Ron. "Look at Malfoy!"  
  
Malfoy was pushing the tongue toward Crabbe, who pushed it towards Goyle, who pushed it towards Pansy Parkinson and who in turn pushed it back to Malfoy. Snape grabbed the tongue and with one tight, hard twist, all the juice came out of it.  
  
"Hand me those scissors, Neville -- thanks," said Ron. "Hermione, you think that was gross?" Harry gave Ron the tongue and he proceeded to cut it into strips, letting them fall into the first cauldron. "Nothing wrong so far, eh?"  
  
Harry stirred the temporary cauldron humming to himself the names of all the disease-causing potions he knew. When thirty minutes were up, he poured the temporary cauldron into the first cauldron.  
  
"This is such boring work," said Harry.  
  
"We only have one lovely year left, Potter," said Snape's cold voice right behind him. "Let's try to make it pleasant, shall we?" Harry watched as Snape dashed over to Parvati Patil who had almost dropped Nundu tongue strips into the wrong cauldron. "Idiot girl!" he hissed. "Ten points!"  
  
"For a minute there I was going to ask why he was being so nice," said Harry. Ron shrugged.  
  
"There's no point in trying to figure him out," said Hermione reassuringly. "He still holds a grudge against you for your father and that's how many years old now?"  
  
"I guess," said Harry and after fifteen minutes, they left Neville toss in the remaining dragon heart strips. They were the first ones finished and as the potion bubbled, fizzed, turned rainbow colored and then burned a hole through the bottom of the cauldron, Snape lost it completely. There was fire in his black eyes and the faint smile he had been wearing was exchanged for a look of rancorous hatred.  
  
"THAT WAS NOT THE HEART OF A DRAGON, POTTER! THAT WAS A NUNDU HEART! FIFTY POINTS!"  
  
Harry gritted his teeth. For all everyone knew, all the hearts on Snape's desk looked, smelled and felt exactly the same. Anger like he hadn't felt all summer coursed through him like the poison he wished he could administer on Snape.  
  
"HOW THE HELL ARE WE SUPPOSED TO KNOW!" Harry roared back. "THEY ALL LOOK, SMELL AND FEEL EXACTLY THE SAME!"  
  
"FIFTY MORE POINTS AND A DETENTION!"  
  
Harry whacked the cauldron with the hole in the bottom, sending it crashing into their temporary cauldron. It went far faster and harder than he intended and upon impact, it didn't just knock it over, it careened into the other cauldron and both of them exploded into fragments so fine they were merely dust. The impact sound was so loud that not only did everyone pin their hands to their ears, Harry could still hear the ringing in his own as he stormed towards the Fat Lady's portrait.  
  
"Flobberworm," he said gruffly.  
  
"Harry?" said Craig as Harry entered the commons. Craig had his head in a Harry Potter: Lucky or Legendary but looked up at the real Harry immediately. "Don't you have Potions now?"  
  
"Had," said Harry hotly. "I expect I'll be thrown out of it by tomorrow."  
  
"Why? What happened?"  
  
"No idea. We were making a potion and somehow I picked up a Nundu heart instead of a dragon heart. Burned a hole right through the cauldron when it finished. Snape decided to take fifty points from us. I yelled at him and he took another fifty and gave me a detention. Then I broke two cauldrons. I don't want to know how a Nundu heart got mixed with a bunch of dragon hearts. Suppose he wanted me to pick it up... must've been why he was smiling. See you at dinner," he added casually, climbing the stairs to his dormitory.  
  
Harry didn't think at all about how the two cauldrons exploded into a fine dust. For all he was concerned, he just didn't know his own strength. When dinner came, Hermione took the time to explain that Snape was angry with himself for mixing a Nundu heart among the dragon hearts.  
  
"...and he said he won't take points away from Gryffindor but you still get detention for smashing the cauldrons. He'll tell you where it is next class."  
  
Harry grunted a fine-but-I-still-hate-him grunt and grabbed a chicken leg from the huge plate in front of him. Hermione was biting her nails, apparently wondering whether to ask something.  
  
"Harry, why did those two cauldrons explode into dust?"  
  
He looked up at her and said simply, "I pushed it a little too hard."  
  
For once, Harry found solace in Divination. As always, the misty smoke and heat of the room made everyone slightly dizzy. Professor Trelawney often said it heightened your senses. Harry often said it made him want to throw up.  
  
"Many things, we have covered," said Professor Trelawney.  
  
She readjusted her shawl importantly, making the glint from her pearls pierce Harry's eye. He shifted in his seat to take the annoying glare away from his glasses and she looked at him through her own glasses. He wished she would take those off or at the very least exchange them for new ones. The effect they had on her eyes was freaky as they made them look far too big for her face. Professor Trelawney was still very thin, almost disproportionate and at first glance, Harry swore she was a large insect.  
  
If it was possible, she was wearing more beads, chains and necklaces than usual. If she put on a few more, the back of her neck might start to cave in. On second thought, that might not be a bad thing, thought Harry. With a slight sense of foreboding himself, Harry grabbed the Order of Merlin plaque and held it tightly. He still couldn't answer himself why this made him feel better.  
  
"Today we will see who among you are true Seers and who are just trying to fill up your schedules." At this, she glared at Harry. For a brief moment, she looked to be suspecting Harry of the latter and to no one's surprise, her face slowly sank into the tragic expression that to him, by now, was expected. If she didn't give him this look, something was wrong.  
  
"We have been studying dreams and visions since the start of the term two weeks ago. Dreams and visions," she said slowly, "can tell us more than anything else." Her eyes left Harry's and to his relief, gazed around the room. Harry let go of the plaque and sat up straight. "They are a direct encounter with what is to happen and nothing can be more accurate."  
  
Harry felt the heat rising in his face and his shoulders tensing up. He shifted uneasily in his seat. Since his first year at Hogwarts, he had had dreams of Lord Voldemort and not only nightmares, but dreams that turned out to be true.  
  
Harry and Ron exchanged dark looks. Their first year of Diviniation, it was the grim, a bad omen, that Professor Trelawney thought was going to foretell Harry's death. Their second year, she continued to predict Harry's death and their third year she had been abusing the mark of ancients that ran through his blood.  
  
This year it was going to be total embarassment. Did she find out about Harry's dreams? Several times had he been seen at school in agony from his scar but only twice had it been from a dream while he was... was asleep during a class.  
  
The heat in his face reached the point of almost causing him to sweat. When was his name going to come up? What was she going to have him do? Although no one was staring at him yet, he was waiting for it, looking around, contorting his face up in what he hoped was an inncocent look. He put a hand to his chin and grabbed the plaque again, all in a fashion so it would look like he was just bored. Ron glanced at him nervously.  
  
"Dreams and visions do not ever lie," she continued, staring at Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, both of whom were looking up at Professor Trelawney in a kind of ecstacy of excitement. Harry would never understand why they found such a class so fascinating. "They are easy to interpret as they portend events exactly as they are without mixed sign or symbol. The inner eye of a true Seer can see whatever he or she wants, whenever... he or she wants. One needs to relax and let the vibrations stimulate them."  
  
Ron had another kind of stimulation in mind. There was a strong urge in his legs to leave.  
  
"Now, how much have you gathered thus far." Professor Trelawney turned in Harry's direction. The tragic look in her face was gone, replaced by a normal look for once. Harry tightened his grip. "Potter," she said, "you have much experience in dreams." He became uncomfortably aware of everyone staring at him. Was she going to make everyone attempt to get a vision of a future (or in Harry's case, a present) event? He didn't want to think about what he might see and felt more like running than sleeping. "How long can these last?"  
  
He swallowed and replied, "About thirty seconds?"  
  
"Yes. Take five points. And can you interact with a dream or vision?"  
  
"No-"  
  
"Five more points. Longbottom, when was the only instance when a dream or vision was wrong?"  
  
Neville's bottom lip trembled as he answered. "The witch killed herself so she wouldn't be tortured to death."  
  
"Another five points. Excellent." Her bulging eyes looked full of delight. "Keep these in mind when you are seeing. To assist in your visions, I have a potion which will put you to sleep for about a minute. You may think of anything your inner eye wishes to wander to and hopefully, during your sleep, you will see something." Any minute now she was going to give Harry a big dose of the pink, swirly potion she held in a bony hand.  
  
She went on a long drawn out speech on how to ready one's mind for visions, babbling something about relaxing your shoulders and putting your thoughts at rest. Harry, as of now, felt like doing nothing of the sort.  
  
At last, "Weasley," she called. Ron got up from his seat and sat in the cushy armchair from which Professor Trelawney rose. He took one sip of the potion and the effect was immediate. Ron's eyes rolled to the back of his head, which lolled to one side.  
  
The class sat tense for a while and in that time, beads of sweat emerged on Ron's hairline. He was having a dream of something... and it didn't involve cuddling with puffskeins. His mouth opened silently when at last, he sprang up and was breathing heavily. He looked at Harry for a moment with an expression far more tragic than Professor Trelawney had given him, before turning it into a neutral stare up at Professor Trelawney.  
  
"What is it, Weasley, what did you see?" she said eagerly.  
  
"Nothing," said Ron but he was quite obviously lying. "It was just a nightmare."  
  
He took his seat next to Harry and sat, silent, avoiding Harry's eyes.  
  
Next up was Parvati and when she awoke about forty seconds later, she said her cat would die at a ripe old age. Neville, whose dream was quite hard for Professor Trelawney to convince him to tell, said his parents would come out of the hospital. Only Harry knew exactly why Neville's parents were in a hospital. They had been tortured to insanity and don't recognize Neville when he visits. Harry, true to his word to Dumbledore when he accidently found out, would not tell anyone, letting Neville be the one to say it.  
  
The entire class had a turn with the potion except Harry. When they left, true to her mysterious self, Professor Trelawney told Harry before he went down the ladder that his current state of events were very deceiving. He clutched the Order of Merlin plaque again as he descended the ladder.  
  
"Why do you keep grabbing that thing?" said Hermione. She was at the bottom of the ladder, having gotten out slightly early from her class.  
  
"I don't know," said Harry shrugging his shoulders. He let go of it. "Makes me feel better whenever I'm tense."  
  
"Whatever works," said Ron who followed Harry down the ladder.  
  
"We were doing visions and dreams today," said Harry as they walked off down the corridor. "I kept thinking she was going to make me have a go at it. Ron, what did you see?" he added sharply. He had a strong urge to grab the plaque again but resisted it.  
  
"Nothing," Ron repeated. "It was just a nightmare."  
  
Later that day during lunch, Neville had let out his parents' secret, that they were tortured with the Cruciatus Curse to the point of insanity. Word spread quickly through the Great Hall as everyone talked about it.   
  
Ron's secret bugged Harry slightly through Care of Magical Creatures (Hagrid brought out his pet dragon, Norbert, again). While learning about how to tame and subdue a dragon, Harry's mind was focused on the look Ron gave him when he woke up. What did he see? Why didn't he want to tell anyone? And why did Professor Trelawney waste her breath telling him that his current state of events was deceiving him? It might help if she was just a little more explicit whenever she had something to tell him...  
  
But she had been right once. In a blood curdling and downright unnerving trance she said, two years ago, that Lord Voldemort would rise again, that his servant would return to him. Sure enough, Pettigrew got loose and a year later, Voldemort got a body of his own.  
  
But she wasn't in a trance. Every time she made a silly remark like the one she just did, it was never anything significant. Ignore it. That was best. Just ignore it. In fact, why not use Mr. Weasley's advice again? 


	9. Girl Trouble

Chapter 9: GIRL TROUBLE  
  
Harry had other things that were more important. For example, Gryffindor needed Chasers on it's Quidditch team. So, Saturday morning after breakfast (by now, Harry had completely forgotten about the episode in Diviniation), Harry, Ron, Craig and Kylie marched down to the Quidditch field together.  
  
"I wonder who the sixth year is," said Ron. "I mean, we know everyone in our year."  
  
Harry tapped Ron on the shoulder. "There they come now," he said. "It's Parvati," he added rolling his eyes. The hopeful Chasers were all in a group heading towards the Quidditch field.  
  
"Hm," said Ron. "Parvati Patil, ugh." To this, Craig made a indistinct growl in the back of his throat.  
  
"He's got a crush on Parvati," Kylie whispered in Harry's ear, giggling. If half a million people can find out who Harry fancies, Harry thought irritably, it wouldn't be a tragedy if a handful found out who Craig likes.  
  
"Ginny?" said Ron quite confused that his sister would want to be on the team. "Don't know the other two," Ron whispered to Harry as the fifth and fourth year came in hearing range.  
  
"James Griffith," said the fifth year. James was fair height with straight, top-of-the-ear-length black hair, parted in the middle. He wore square glasses that were rounded at the edges and his face eerily reminded Harry of both Snape and Hagrid at the same time. The brown eyes were deceiving; if he looked at Harry, they looked friendly but if he looked at a passing Slytherin, it was much like Snape. Harry had seen him before in the corridors.  
  
It didn't make much sense, nor did it matter much, but the name James immediately brought back the picture of James Potter to Harry's mind. The thought of the tall wizard with untidy hair left as quickly as it came.  
  
"Connie Clades," said the fourth. Connie was a mixture between Hermione and Professor McGonagall. The very thought of what kind of personality Connie had was creepy. Her hair was bushy green, obviously dyed, and in pigtails. This was all stark contrast to her fair face and yellow eyes which much resembled Madam Hooch's.  
  
And within fifteen minutes after the greetings were up, and after Harry summoned his Dragonback from his dormitory (he had forgotten it in the rush to finish breakfast, everyone else brought theirs with them), they were flying around testing out the Chaser candidates.  
  
"James and Connie are really good," said Ron as James ducked through Ginny and Katie to make a throw that Craig missed by a mile. "He's quick and good at maneuvering but Connie's got great aim," he added as Connie scored by batting the Quaffle with her broom across the field.  
  
In the end, it was Ginny that won out over Parvati. Ginny at least could dodge Bludgers and wasn't afraid when Harry went charging after her. Parvati always went out of the way, usually hitting someone else, when Harry went in her direction (whether it be chasing the Snitch or dodging Bludgers). Well, it was either that, or Ginny secretly wanted Harry to hit her... Ron suspected this and Harry hoped that she was just better at Quidditch.  
  
Harry got his detention assigned the next Potions class.  
  
"You will be helping myself and Madam Pomfrey administer potions to patients in the hospital wing, Potter. At ten o'clock sharp you are to report to my office, tonight."  
  
Harry sat through making a Potion of True Seeing with apprehension about spending detention with Snape. At present, a potion allowing one to see something invisible just wasn't at all appealing. This feeling wasn't made any better when Snape seized another chance to yell at Harry.  
  
"You are right next to Malfoy and can plainly see his potion is incorrect."  
  
"What would you like me to do, make his potion for him?" sneered Harry. Malfoy looked delighted at the very thought. "The idiot only does good in this class because you're so lenient on him." The content look on Malfoy's face was whisked away. Snape's upper lip curled and his hair, if possible, looked greasier than usual. Harry figured if there was any more inside of it, you could use his dripping hair grease instead of bubotuber pus. It just looked that revolting.  
  
Harry bent over his potion ingredients and clutched the Order of Merlin plaque, cutting and stirring one handed. By the look on Snape's face, he was ready to explode, his skin whiter than Nearly Headless Nick's.  
  
Snape flipped his hair back and replied, "Potter -"  
  
"Go on," Harry interrupted. "Would you like me to smash more cauldrons?"  
  
"Go right ahead," said Snape calmly. "I will see to it you are expelled if your behavior continues." Snape turned away. Harry wasn't finished.  
  
"You know I sometimes wonder Professor," he called at Snape's back, in the slickest voice possible, letting go of the plaque. "Voldemort said you tried to get me expelled so I was no longer protected here." Snape stopped moving. Harry shifted cooly in his seat, peering up at Snape and the room fell silent. "I wonder if you're still working with him?"  
  
Snape grabbed something out of his robes and when he turned around, Harry immediately saw it was his wand. If Snape was going to try a curse, it wouldn't be pretty. Anything to stop him, anything. Harry pulled out his own wand and before Snape could even aim, Harry aimed and shouted, "Expelliarmus!"  
  
Snape flipped backwards, wand flying right into Harry's free hand, and smacked against the wall behind him, upside down. The Slytherins drew a gasp of breath as Snape fell to the ground as a small pile of black, billowing robes and greasy hair. Snape scrambled to his feet and there was blood pouring out of his nose -- Harry had broken it. He couldn't clearly tell if the look on Snape's face was one of surprise, anger or amazement.  
  
"You're quick, Potter, there's no denying it. James was never that fast," Snape blurted out as fast as he could. It pained him to say this. Harry's expression remained as flat as before, not at all acknowleding the fact that Snape, of all people, just complimented him. "Your antics have earned you a week of detention."  
  
Snape didn't give any homework. Harry liked to think Snape was afraid he might get another few bones broken. Hermione suggested something along the lines of it being a favor to Sirius.  
  
Harry couldn't care much about the detentions. Embarassing a professor, especially Snape, by beating them at a wand draw was good enough for Harry any day. Even as he helped to make potions that smelled fouler than how Uncle Vernon can be known to leave the bathroom, and that is saying something, he was smiling faintly.  
  
"Come on, Potter, I don't have all day," Snape was calling to Harry from the other side of the room. Madam Pomfrey was all out of Pepperup Potion and making it required a frothing and smelly cauldron of dragon heart, bezoar and dragon liver.  
  
"Where are the dragon hearts?" asked Harry, examining a particularly off-color one. They are normally red but this one looked pinkish and was hard to the touch. He had used all of the good ones. "These're gross."  
  
Snape plopped a fresh barrel of dragon hearts on the table next to Harry. He pulled out a juicy one and threw it into his cauldron. Madam Pomfrey had set up a place for Harry to work. It was better than doing it in a room alone with Snape... It was amazing how many sick students there were when you bothered to step inside and look around.  
  
Harry guessed that Snape deemed him worthy of potion making or he would have Harry do something else. Whether this was another compliment or Snape was, in reality, hoping Harry wouldn't mess up, he couldn't guess. It wasn't all bad. Pouring foul-tasting potions down people's mouths was very satisfying particularly when you got to see the look on their faces.  
  
While forcing Pepperup Potion down Susan Bones' mouth, and the successive steaming of her ears, Harry took notice of one bed with curtains drawn around it in the corner. This struck Harry as being strange as all the other curtains were wide open.  
  
"No, Mr. Potter," said Madam Pomfrey sharply, noticing Harry looking at it, "that patient is perfectly fine."  
  
"Okay."  
  
And so he ignored it.  
  
Ron started to think up a grueling Quidditch practice schedule the next day. This all worked out excellently as Harry, having gone to bed at midnight, needed something to remove the smell of potions from his nose that stayed with him all night. Quidditch practices usually did the trick.  
  
A quick lift off onto the Quidditch field on his Dragonback for a test flight, and a minute of flying, still in his pajamas, Order of Merlin necklace fluttering in the wind, did the trick nicely. Lately, from the time Harry woke up in the morning to minutes before he crawled into bed, the necklace was on. The shock finally -- okay, almost -- wore off and it was now just a very nice ornament.  
  
"Come on, Harry," said Ron, catching up to him. "I had Madam Hooch bewitch the Snitch temporarily to give your Dragonback a good run. It'll only last for a few more hours."  
  
And so they had an unofficial practice. Real practices weren't to start for another week or so. Harry not being allowed to go very long without turning red, Cho turned up within a few minutes. She very politely asked if she could ride on the back of Harry's broomstick. Unfortunately, Cho wouldn't let him say no.  
  
He enlarged the Dragonback and the two of them went bounding after the Snitch. It still posed no threat. Harry had discovered various means of giving himself small bursts of speed so that if it was just in front of him, all he need do was either slam himself harder against the handle, thrust his hand out as hard as possible or ride his broom like a skateboard, the latter of which Cho was very nervous about Harry doing -- she had to stand on it, too.  
  
Defense Against the Dark Arts that day continued to make Harry's face turn as red as the apple tree in the forest. Care of Magical Creatures was slightly fun considering Hagrid brought in a rather interesting creature known as troglodytes. Barely up to Harry's navel, their skin was rainbow colored which was not very good camoflauge for their living quarters: caves. Best of all, Professor Trelawney took another wasted minute to remind Harry his current state of affairs were deceiving him.  
  
"I can't wait until we can get into mind reading," said Harry. "That way I can tell her all of her bad forthcoming events."  
  
"She already knows, Harry," Hermione reminded him.  
  
"I know but it will make me feel better to know that her life sucks too," said Harry hotly. This profound statement left him with a bit of angst to dwell on and it caused Ron to take a step away from Harry as they made their way towards lunch. Harry had an urge to grab the Order of Merlin plaque but preferred to let the feeling simmer for a while.  
  
"What are you so upset about?" said Hermione during dinner, sounding a lot like a worried mother. Harry quickly finished chewing, though appreciated the concern.  
  
"Something's going to happen like it has every year," said Harry matter-of-factly.  
  
"Oh don't get yourself worked up. Don't you want to have a nice, quiet year? For a change?" she added, raising her tone.  
  
"After last year I think we're all ready to hand in our adventuring spirit," said Ron. Harry quietly agreed. It would be perfect to have one quiet year. "Eh?" said Ron, raising his goblet in toasting position.  
  
Harry grabbed his goblet but was slightly hesitant. He couldn't answer himself but it seemed to have something to do with finally feeling capable with the Order of Merlin necklace and all. Something in the back of his head was whispering "stay out of trouble, it'll do you good." Hermione had already raised her glass. Harry saw that Ginny was looking at him but she turned away when he turned to look at her.  
  
"Oh what the hell," said Harry, letting go of his hesitation and smiling at the back of Ginny's head. The three of them made a toast to "avoiding situations where we might get killed!" Seamus and Dean looked up at their strange toast. Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at the two of them.  
  
"What?" they all said innocently. Seamus and Dean went back to eating and the three giggled to themselves. After that, Harry had a much better time stuffing his face with food and the urge to hold the Order of Merlin plaque passed. He made a small promise to himself not to get involved in anything. It was another opportunity, Harry thought, to take heed of the words of the Great Mr. Weasley. His words were quick, they were simple and they hadn't failed to brighten Harry's mood once.  
  
That night at the hospital, the students from the previous night were exchanged with another set. The bed in the corner still had it's curtains closed but Harry knew better. Madam Pomfrey was probably tending to that person and chances are they were in quite a bad condition.  
  
Dumbledore stopped by to tell Harry that Sirius has gone to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.  
  
"I believe he is quite close to being fully connected with his soul. A group of ten wizards managed to subdue and kill the dementor responsible and upon death, a malformed white thing fled. They believe it has gone to seek out it's body as it was spotted near St. Mungo's. The potion attempts to connect the body with the missing part of it's soul and the potion is working nicely."  
  
This was some of the best news Harry had since he got word Sirius was staying at the Dursley's with him the previous summer. He immediately woke up Ron at one in the morning to let him know. Delighted as Ron was, telling him had another desirable effect: Ron agreed to cancel another early practice tomorrow morning.  
  
Paladism had gotten somewhat interesting.  
  
"We have studied enchantments before," said Dumbledore. There was some excitement in the fairly damp, stone dungeon room. Enchanting things was something Harry looked forward to. People all along the walls in their seats were looking happy. "Now is the time to attempt one."  
  
Upon his desk, Dumbledore held up a ruby encrusted, silver sword Harry recognized immediately.  
  
"This sword," he began, "as I'm sure at least three of you know," he added, eyes glittering behind the half-moon spectacles, peering over at Harry and Ron, "is the very sword that killed the basilisk four years ago." Harry would have turned red but he already had the Order of Merlin plaque in his hands. A few heads still turned whenever someone mentioned the word "basilisk" in a room with Harry. "It is very suspectible to enchantments and as such we will be using this today as a demonstration. Mr. Potter, if you would, please conjure that ice dragon you have become known for?"  
  
As Harry shouted "Draconus iciclia!" Dumbledore shouted "Incanto usurponis incendium," the fire enchantment. The dragon zoomed towards Dumbledore and he swung the sword, slicing the dragon in two. It caught fire, the - ICE - caught fire and fell to the ground.  
  
"A strong enchantment, you see," Dumbledore explained to all the eyes staring at the burning remnants. After a second or two, the dragon's tail finally melted completely. "Abditum!" The blade flashed red for a moment and fire gathered to the tip before vanishing in a pop. "The ice dragon can get so cold that it will put out the hottest of fires and should it fly into exposed skin, it would freeze it upon contact. No need to worry, Mr. Potter, as your dragon is no where near the size of one capable of such feats," he added, twinkling again.  
  
"Now, I will conjure an ice dragon, lightning dragon and a fire dragon. You can enchant your wands and see if you're able to kill one of them. You will have to hit the dragon with your wand, possibly a few times. Each dragon is susceptible to the other two elements. Remember that lightning is strongest but a dragon's own element is rather useless against it. As such, you will have quite a time trying to banish the lightning dragon. Off you go, then."  
  
Within ten minutes, only Hermione had managed to enchant her wand with ice and the fire dragon wasn't letting her anywhere near it despite it's size (it was about a foot high, just as tall as Harry's). The dragons spited everyone, sitting spread out atop Dumbledore's desk.  
  
"Miss Granger," said Dumbledore, slightly saddened at the weak attempts, "the worst it is capable of doing is making you feel like you put your hand under hot water."  
  
At this, Hermione summoned her courage and made a mad dash around the dragon and poked it's tail. It scowled and drew a breath of fire, hitting Neville's free hand. He jumped up and down shouting, "Aquor!" trying to make water rain down on his hand. He managed to put out the fire dragon, instead.  
  
"Mr. Longbottom," said Dumbledore sternly, "enchant your wand with ice, please."  
  
After a minute of wand waving and bellowing of "Incanto usurponis glacies!" he managed to succeed (the wand glowed icy-blue for a moment). He smiled a big smile at his work.  
  
"It is not terribly hard but it does require a certain concentration. May I remind you that wands help you focus. The core of a wand provides magic from the creature it was taken from. Combined, you can be a little better focused but without any intention, nothing will happen. Now, Mr. Longbottom, attempt to whack the fire dragon on the head," he added, looking more cheery.  
  
Watching Neville attempt to hit a dragon on the head was rather like watching wrestling on television, Harry thought. If Neville moved left, the dragon whipped it's tail and scowled, causing Neville to back up. If Neville jerked his hand forward, the dragon attempted to bite it and when he withdrew his hand, it threw a fireball at him.  
  
"Someone feel free to help," said Dumbledore.  
  
At this, Harry shouted, "Draconus iciclia!" A slightly larger dragon than that which used to appear, now at two feet, sprouted out of Harry's wand and careened into fire dragon, pelting it with snowballs. Dumbledore scowled.  
  
"Sorry, Professor," said Harry, hanging his head at the look on Dumbledore's face. Harry's dragon roared, filling the air with cracking ice and the sound of sheets of ice moving across one another. A small puff of freezing air erupted from it's mouth and it wagged it's tail proudly before the lightning dragon shot a bolt of lightning at it, shattering the ice dragon. The lightning dragon gazed menacingly at it's victim's conjuror. Harry forgot all about Dumbledore and scowled back at it, twirling his wand in his fingers.  
  
"Mr. Potter," said Dumbledore suddenly. Harry dropped his face immediately and looked up at him. "Why don't you have a go?"  
  
Harry got up from his seat and approached the dragon. After a minute, he managed to make his wand glow fire-red for a brief moment. Of all the spells so far, the enchantment ones gave him the hardest time. The lightning dragon waved it's tail menacingly, a few bolts of lightning erupting from it's mouth. One hit Harry handily on the wrist.  
  
"Ouch!"  
  
He flapped his hand in pain as it hurt quite a bit more than getting a snowball in the wrist. He then jabbed his wand furiously into it's open mouth as it sent another bolt from it's tail to his wand hand, hitting his thumb. This caused him to let go of his wand. Harry put his scorched thumb into his mouth to curb the shocking sensation.  
  
The dragon was choking on his wand, unable to force it out, coughing repeatedly. The wand had went through the dragon's neck. There was a veritable thunderstorm by it's mouth. Furious, Harry snapped his uninjured hand out towards his wand and flung the dragon up into the air. The wand widened the hole and the dragon made a strangled roar.  
  
A bolt of lightning cracked from the ceiling and the dragon disappeared into a hazy purple cloud. His wand fell to the floor. Dumbledore clapped saying, "Well done! Five points to Gryffindor!" but he was the only one clapping, everyone else was staring at Harry. Harry himself let go of his thumb and flapped his hand, put it back in his mouth and then took his seat.  
  
He removed his thumb and muttered "Remedium impluo," under his breath. A bit of rain fell onto the thumb, making it feel like new again.  
  
"A minor injury," said Dumbledore kindly. "Now, would anyone like to take their chances against a fully grown lightning dragon with this blade?" he added, positively beaming. Harry had enough. One shocking experience per day will do. Everyone else took the same attitude after seeing, of all people, Harry, struggling except, surprisingly, Ron.  
  
"Sure, Professor," he said, standing up.  
  
Dumbledore was positively delighted. He handed Ron the blade of Godric Gryffindor and it took Ron the usual minute to make it glow icy-blue for a moment.  
  
Dumbledore moved the desk out of the way and conjured a lightning dragon that filled the room from floor to ceiling. It was louder, meaner, purpler and it shot out more random lightning bolts than the small one.  
  
It's mouth opened, Ron gritted his teeth and darted towards it's mouth (he was apparently trying to copy Harry). The plan backfired. Ron howled in pain when the dragon whipped his arm with it's tail  
  
"Be glad it didn't decide to use a lightning bolt," said Dumbledore, laughing softly.  
  
"Thanks," said Ron, clutching his arm. He waved the sword back and forth as the dragon tried to bite him. Ron jumped back when it's tail whipped forward but it succeeded in lashing his sword hand and was eyeing it. "Uh, oh," said Ron darkly.  
  
The dragon slapped the sword upward with it's tail and then outward, sending it spinning -- right towards Malfoy, two seats down from Harry.  
  
It must have been all the practice with catching knives out of the air that made him think he could do it because he couldn't see how he could think he could otherwise. As much as he hated Malfoy, he didn't wish him dead. With a sweaty hand, Harry leapt from his seat and lunged himself at the sword, catching it midflight by the handle, inches from Malfoy's chest.  
  
He handed it to Ron, who then swiped it across the distracted dragon's neck, decapitating it. Both parts became a purple, glowing cloud and then dissipated.  
  
And then when everyone could turn their attention away from the dragon, Malfoy had his hand on the general area where the sword would have hit him, Hermione had a hand clasped to her mouth in horror, Ron had a Harry-did-it-so-what-are-you-staring-at look on his face and Dumbledore did not look surprised. He winked at Harry and gave Gryffindor fifty points -- twenty for Ron, thirty for Harry.  
  
If everyone was staring at Harry when he killed the lightning dragon with his wand, it was nothing to how long everyone was staring now. It took until the end of class for them to stop.  
  
"D'you think he knew I could do that?" asked Harry at dinner that night.  
  
Dumbledore was reenacting the episode up at the staff table to Professor McGonagall. Hagrid looked outraged Dumbledore conjured a fully grown lightning dragon... and didn't invite him to come see.  
  
"Probably," said Ron. "I mean, we had you catching knives during the summer and you only cut yourself once. Once!"  
  
"I suppose," Harry chortled.  
  
"I'm still upset though," said Ron dully. "Malfoy coulda died."  
  
Hermione scowled. Harry laughed.  
  
"Hey, there could be an upside," said Harry brightly. "I saved his life."  
  
He paused, holding his fork midway between his mouth and plate. Hermione put her goblet down. Ron didn't chew the food he just stuck in his mouth. The three sat silent for a minute as these four words sank in. Harry then bit the end off of his steak, chewed it, then drank from his goblet. He smiled ear to ear and they talk about what could've happened if either Harry died by catching the blade or Malfoy died by the blade impaling him. As grim a subject as it was, it was highly amusing.   
  
"And then Parkinson kills herself because her boyfriend is dead and we live happily ever after," said Ron.  
  
"Cho's not my girlfriend," said Harry quickly, on instinct without putting any thought into why he said it.  
  
"Yes she is, Harry," said Hermione casually. "The entire school knows it."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
Hermione smiled and added, "As does everyone who read the Daily Prophet on your birthday." Harry's face turned deep red.  
  
"Shut up!"  
  
"If she's not your girlfriend," she said, sniggering, "then how come you brought it up when I mentioned Parkinson?"  
  
Harry didn't reply but was noticeably chewing his food faster. He was thankful that Ron wasn't taking part in Hermione's fun but could see the beginnings of what looked like a smile at the corner of Ron's lip.  
  
"You're cute when you're angry," said Hermione and she playfully hugged him. It was Harry's turn to scowl.  
  
Ginny ambled over. Harry turned around and noticed that Cho was following Ginny out of the corner of her eye. She didn't... she couldn't... honestly think... ? Nah. It was common knowledge Ginny had a thing for Harry but it wasn't mutual (much to Ginny's dismay).  
  
Harry would never forgot how embarassed Ginny acted after he saved her from the basilisk. However, this was nothing he should be fretting over. Girls will be girls: confusing. Harry tossed the seeming resentment between Cho and Ginny out of his head. He's got better things to worry about -- like how he's going to survive, after tonight, two more days of detention with Snape. The really sick person in the corner was still there.  
  
But, Harry did need to come up with an excuse for saving Malfoy's life. He became content with the story that he just wanted to see Ron get the dragon and that preventing Malfoy's death was just an unfortunate side effect. 


	10. The Patient

Chapter 10: THE PATIENT  
  
"You know, we haven't been to see Hagrid yet," said Hermione over breakfast.  
  
"What d'you say we go after lunch?" said Ron. "I need something to cheer me up before we go to Herbology."  
  
So after Defense Against the Dark Arts, where Harry was the only one who could manage to raise a one inch skeleton that could throw fireballs from a dead spider (they took a break from the dreadful book), instead of spending time in the commons, they left the castle.  
  
The fall air was cool but it was the winds that made them wrap their cloaks tighter as they neared Hagrid's hut. Clouds above threatened to drop rain. Hagrid was sitting outside in his moleskin overcoat tending to short green things with small clubs. They had to be young trolls. He was feeding them chickens and they were eating them savagely, tossing feathers and blood all over. The sight was rather gross.  
  
"You have to feed those things outside?" said Hermione, now covering her nose with her cloak to drown out the smell.  
  
"Have ter," said Hagrid. "They made a mess of me hut when I tried ter feed 'em inside!"  
  
One of the trolls mistook Hagrid's finger for food and when he whipped his hand, he flung the troll towards Harry, Ron and Hermione.  
  
It stood up and raised it's club, stamping after Harry, who quickly pulled out his wand.  
  
"Expelliarmus!" he shouted. The young troll's club flew out of it's hand and into Harry's. It knew better than to go after him. Hagrid chuckled.  
  
"I remember when yeh took on that fully grown troll in yer first year. Now yeh're takin' on fully grown balrogs!"  
  
Harry frowned.  
  
"I tried to kill it with an Avada Kedavra. It just bounced off and the thing got angrier."  
  
Hagrid chuckled again.  
  
"Their skin is like a dragon's. Most magic just bounces right off. Soon maybe yeh can take a Nundu," he added, laughing. "Come, these're done eating fer today." Hagrid threw the last of the chickens at them and Harry gave the troll it's club back. They walked into the forest, grunting. "Bane is takin' care of 'em for me. They're yer next lesson."  
  
Hagrid opened up his door and they all sat inside. Hagrid offered them rock cakes which he immediately reminded them he cooked himself. They took the tea but lied and said they were full and couldn't eat the cake. It did smell awfully good but past experience with Hagrid's cooking was none too appealing.  
  
"So Harry, I hear Snape's got yeh in detention in the hospital wing," said Hagrid taking a seat on the huge chair next to the fire.  
  
"Oh yes," said Harry sarcastically. "It's great fun. I get to make Pepperup Potions and stuff and when I mess up, Snape gets to yell at me and take away obscene amounts of points. I think he's taken fifty so far."  
  
"Too bad Sirius isn't around to boss him around," said Ron. At this, Harry saw that Hagrid made a face that said he agreed.  
  
"Where is he anyway?" asked Hermione. "Hasn't been to see Harry at all yet."  
  
"Oh, er," began Hagrid, "he's fine. Some complications with the Soul-Saver potion. Bad business that stuff. Givin' St. Mungo's witches a hard time."  
  
"Can't wait to see him again," said Harry. He took a sip of Hagrid's tea. To his surprise, it tasted much, much better than teas past. "Hagrid, this tastes very good!"  
  
Hagrid grinned. "New recipe from the house-elves. Dobby suggested I try it. Gettin' along well, that elf. Still a bit weird."  
  
"Oh, how's Winky?" asked Hermione hastily.  
  
"She's doin' great. Got over Crouch las' year and Dobby's been keepin' her spirits up. She's still just a bit upset. I figure it'll take a bit longer for her ter realize he isn't still her master. Speakin' o' which, that reminds me, Harry," Hagrid added, turning to Harry. "Dumbledore wanted me ter tell yeh ter stay out of trouble this year."  
  
"No need to remind me," said Harry, smiling. "I'll never forget this summer and I hope to see another one like it next year."  
  
"Aww," said Hermione, giggling at his soft side. She went to hug him again but Harry shrugged her off.  
  
"Didn't yeh know, Hermione?" said Hagrid innocently.  
  
"Know what?"  
  
"He's reserved for Cho!"  
  
"Shut up!" Harry felt the blood rising in his face.  
  
"Oh come on, Harry. Viktor and I did stuff over the -" but she couldn't finish as Harry's frown turned into a nasty smile.  
  
"Oh really?" he asked, his voice rising. Hermione's face went scarlet.  
  
"Well... we just, I mean - I showed him around and... and we went to the mov- Hey!" She looked at Ron, who was being just as quiet as was Hagrid. They were enjoying themselves. "What about you, Ron?" Harry was now no longer flush. Harry and Hermione expected Ron to turn red but he didn't. "What'd you do this summer with Fleur?" she said, smiling broadly.  
  
"We met once or twice but she wanted to talk about Harry most of the time," said Ron dully.  
  
"For the book?" asked Hermione quickly.  
  
"For the book," Ron acknowledged. He suddenly smiled. "Oh, yeah! Mom made us get together again. I forgot all about it because I was half asleep and full up on butterbeer. We spent a few hours in Hogsmeade. What about you, Harry? Gonna go anywhere with Cho?"  
  
Harry folded his arms, turning red again.  
  
"Ah, c'mon, Harry," said Hagrid.  
  
Harry liked the idea but was afraid he'd turn into a puddle if he was forced to ask Cho about it. There was an awkward silence.  
  
"We'll be late for Herbology," said Harry suddenly. "Greenhouse four."  
  
Of course, the person he had no trouble looking at and usually wanted to see was Sirius. Snape was being extra edgy in Potions.  
  
"Enjoying your detentions, Potter?" said Snape coldly, the edge of his upper lip curling with delight.  
  
Harry didn't respond and tended to his simmering cauldron. It would appear Snape's animosity was reaching it's height or at the very least, Harry hoped it couldn't get much worse. He looked over to Malfoy to see his reaction. Malfoy wasn't looking towards Snape at all. It took an event where Harry saved Malfoy's life to stop him from being nasty? Snape, however, kept flapping his stupid mouth.  
  
"I remember all the times your father wormed his way out of detention," he said softly. "I never thought I would be blessed with the delight of giving his son detention." Harry didn't notice it, but the class stopped what they were doing to look in his direction. Some of them, especially Ron and Hermione, had gone very white. "You were so happy on your birthday when everyone was recollecting time with James! I just don't want you to get the wrong impression. A hero, he is not."  
  
Snape had hit a soft point, a soft point that would cause an explosion in Harry's stomach any minute.  
  
"You don't know anything about him," said Harry, still looking after his cauldron.  
  
"Tut," said Snape. "And neither do you." The fireworks were about to go off and it would be a sight to behold... Harry tried hard kept his anger out of his voice but the coldness and shakiness he couldn't.  
  
"I don't know anything about him because you helped the man that killed him. Haven't we had this conversation before?" Harry couldn't help it. The anger was rising. "If I remember correctly, you tried to wrongly get yourself an Order of Merlin, Second Class."  
  
He pulled the Order of Merlin plaque out from under his shirt to show Snape and upon grabbing it, self-confidence swept through him like never before and he ignored the sour look on Snape's face. Harry still wasn't smiling but his face was resolute.  
  
"You better keep doing whatever it takes to make yourself feel better, Severus," said Harry coldly, his hand holding the plaque shaking, "because this one has my name on it and I don't see one around your neck."  
  
"Keep up the attitude, Potter, and I will see to it that you are expelled. Another week of detention," said Snape hastily and he walked away.  
  
Harry would never find out, but it looked as if Snape was intimidated by him. After all, Harry did manage to control a bolt of lightning...  
  
More so than ever before did Harry wish again that he still had parents, or at the very least, that Sirius was perfectly fine. He couldn't talk to anyone like he could talk to Sirius. On the outside, it looked like the famous Harry Potter was an amazingly brave wizard who was finding his way in life as an orphan. On the inside, it was the exact opposite.  
  
Harry made the excuse during dinner that he had to re-read a chapter from Harry Potter: Lucky or Legendary. Ron and Hermione immediately knew this was false but didn't press the point. It was all an empty wish and he was closer to tears during his silent dinner alone up in his dormitory than was comfortable.  
  
Nothing at all helped to raise his mood, not even Hedwig resting on his shoulder, her warm feathers pressing up against his cheek.  
  
"Get off, Hedwig," he snapped.  
  
She took a bite out of one his meatballs then fluttered onto the window ledge near his bed and stuck up her tail at him. Harry ate his dinner, thinking about the episode with Cappy, Aunt Vernon and Uncle Petunia, or was it the other way around -- his brain wasn't working properly.  
  
Harry totally ignored the promise to Sirius that he would talk to someone, anyone about something that was bothering him. This was mostly due to the fact that he would like the person to be Sirius but he was currently at St. Mungo's. A few boring hours later, Snape came personally to beckon Harry off to the hospital wing.  
  
In the corner, again, was the person with the curtains drawn around them. As much as he would have liked to rip the covers off to see who it was, he remembered his promise to himself to stay out of trouble and listen to Dumbledore for a change. His toast with Ron and Hermione went forgotten but it looked like a perfect time to use Mr. Weasley's words again.  
  
But as Snape was bickering over the quality of his wound-cleaning potion, one of the things nagging Harry was who could be so sick that they had to be here for almost a week? No one he knew was missing and no one had mentioned it. For a brief moment, he suspected everyone was hiding something from him.  
  
Harry cleaned a big gash on Justin Finch-Fletchley's arm that he got from an over-excited plant in Herbology. The wound-cleaning potion worked extraordinarily well, cleaning out the green stuff in one swipe. Harry had nothing better to do so he put all his effort into making the best wound-cleaning potion bezoar, dragon's blood and diluted Bundimun secretion could make. Madam Pomfrey poured his cauldron into a huge bottle for safe-keeping.  
  
"A bit too much Bundimun secretion, Mr. Potter, but the extra dragon's blood made it worthwhile," she said.  
  
"Professor Snape taught us well," Harry sneered, cleaning his cauldron out.  
  
The heavy rain outside drowned out the words Snape was muttering to himself. It was another thunderstorm, third one this week. Lightning lit up the night sky, putting Hagrid's hut in view from the hospital wing's windows. He was chasing trolls and when another lightning bolt cracked the air, Harry saw the outline of what looked like a three headed dog he had unfortunately seen before: Fluffy. Fluffy was too dangerous to give away; Hagrid must have let him loose in the forest. He then saw Hagrid frantically playing his flute to put Fluffy to sleep.  
  
"Potter, you're dripping dragon blood on the floor," said Snape.  
  
Harry snapped out of his day dreaming. Snape left the room and Harry checked his watch (he still wasn't over the fact that he was wearing a twenty-four karat gold watch paid for mostly by the Dursleys). It was half past midnight and he would get to leave in another half hour. Officially, it was Saturday and Harry was looking forward to the rest of his first weekend back at Hogwarts.  
  
Glancing at the patient in the corner out of his eye, his curiosity, as it so often did, got the best of him. Madam Pomfrey stepped out and Harry walked over to the bed with the curtains drawn around it. Who could that be? Dumbledore was perfectly fine, no teachers were missing, Sirius was at St. Mungo's, none of his friends were hurt so bad and, in fact, he's seen them all ever since he first spotted the patient.  
  
He had his hand on the curtain when Madam Pomfrey bustled in, looking frazzled.  
  
"Mr. Potter, may I remind you there is no need to check up on that patient," she said sternly. She shooed him away and sent him back to Gryffindor Tower early.  
  
When Harry got back to his dormitory, he did a little more detective work. What did it seem like everyone was doing about this? It looked innocent enough: a patient in the corner of the hospital wing, clearly very ill, that Madam Pomfrey didn't want Harry to see. Was it someone he knew and was forgetting about? Or was the person in just such a bad condition that he might give up his dinner at the sight of them? The latter was more likely.  
  
Whatever the case, he only had two more days to find out... and he would find out. It was plainly obvious that Madam Pomfrey didn't want him looking and then there was the fact that nobody seemed to care that there was a person lying in the hospital wing for at least three days. There was no telling how long before Harry first saw that person that they have been there.  
  
As Harry put his necklace and watch on top of his trunk, another thought came to mind: what did Ron hide from him that day in Divination? Why didn't Professor Trelawney let him have a go? Did she think he would see something? Another teacher had done exactly the same thing. Three years ago Professor Lupin didn't let Harry fight a boggart, a shape-shifter, because he thought it might turn into Voldemort. It did turn into something scary, but it wasn't Voldemort: it was a dementor. That must be it. Harry would have seen what he was questioning this very moment.  
  
He would ask Ron what he saw in the morning. Harry turned to his pillows, scrunched them up, crawled into bed, pulled the covers over himself, closed the curtains and went to sleep.  
  
The very next morning when Harry awoke, he sat on his bed, twiddling his thumbs, waiting for Ron to wake up. Should he press the matter as soon as he wakes up or wait until breakfast or bug Ron after breakfast? Harry was dying to know and he would pull it out of Ron one way or another. Thankfully, an opportunity presented itself in perfect form over breakfast (somehow the talk went from how it felt to be back from the summer vacation, to Harry's birthday, to classes in general and then to classes you hated). Also thankfully, Harry never mentioned the person in the corner of the hospital wing to anyone so if Ron's vision involved that, he would be free to run down without anyone knowing where he was going.  
  
"We should've dropped Divination along with you, Hermione, honestly," Ron was saying. "That class is such a bore and it's so dull. It's so dull I can't make any wisecracks about it."  
  
"It wasn't dull when you woke up in a cold sweat gauking at me like I grew two more heads and four more legs," said Harry coldly. If he was forceful enough, Ron might be more willing. It caught Ron by surprise.  
  
"I... well that is, I mean." Harry raised an inquisitive eyebrow, and smiled twistedly, not unlike how Snape once did in their first year.  
  
"Cough it up, Ron," Harry said sharply. "What did you see?" Hermione's eyes were darting between the two of them.  
  
"I told you. It was just a nightmare." There were more beads of sweat breaking across Ron's face.  
  
"If it's just a nightmare why won't you tell me?" said Harry, starting to get annoyed.  
  
"What happened?" asked Hermione anxiously. Harry turned to her.  
  
"I don't know," he said, and then he started staring at Ron like a hawk. "Ask him." Ron didn't reply and began to eat his eggs like they were the most important thing in the world. That and his arm was clearly shaking.  
  
"Ron!" panted Hermione like she had just run several laps around the lake. "What is it?"  
  
Ron heaved a great sigh and put his fork down.  
  
"All right, all right," he said, his shoulders finally relaxing (Harry's did the opposite).  
  
"I saw Sirius," Ron continued. Harry and Hermione's eyes widened and Ron closed his trying to remember every last detail. "He... he said something but I can't remember what. Something... something about Cybele."  
  
"Cybe-what? Someone's name?" said Hermione.  
  
"'Cyb' as in 'squib' and then 'uhh' and 'lee.' Cybele- I don't know!" he shouted, annoyed.  
  
"Shh!"  
  
"After he said that, he just... he just fell to the ground, a zombie again." Ron looked at Harry with a great pain in his eyes and a loss for words. Harry felt the blood leave his face. There was no point in keeping it there as he didn't feel like hearing or seeing anything else.  
  
"No," said Hermione, trying to sound cheerful.  
  
"No, what?" said Ron. Harry didn't feel much like speaking.  
  
"It was just a vision," Hermione said reassuringly. "I mean, if it was true, why wouldn't anyone tell Harry? Aside from Dumbledore, Harry would definitely be the first to know! Besides, he's in St. Mungo's and Hagrid said he was okay."  
  
"I didn't want to worry you, Harry," said Ron. "I mean, you're the one that has the dreams that tell the future and you see stuff, not me. What if it's just fake?" he added hastily. "Look. When we finish our breakfast, we'll go see Hagrid and ask him, okay?"  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
"Okay," Ron said with a bit of finality. Harry wolfed the rest of his food down, not speaking. Ron and Hermione ate normally and Harry finished long before them.  
  
"I'm going to see Hagrid now," he said.  
  
"We'll be there soon," said Hermione as Harry left the Great Hall.  
  
Hagrid knew something he didn't want to tell Harry... Out through the great oak castle door, Harry sprinted across the grass (for once it was sunny out and the wind wasn't blowing anything down) and ignored the fact that his cloak was falling off his shoulder...  
  
Harry knocked hard, a little harder than he intended, on Hagrid's door.  
  
"C'min!" Fang, Hagrid's boarhound was scraping the door. "Oh, hello, Harry," Hagrid said cheerfully. "Down, Fang! Come back so soon?" Hagrid's beetle-black eyes were full of cheer but upon further inspection, they also looked to be hiding something. Harry wanted to get right to the point.  
  
"You're not lying to me about Sirius, are you, Hagrid?" said Harry, a bit more forceful than he wanted to.  
  
"What?" said Hagrid, taken aback by Harry's accusation. "O' course not! He's in St. Mungo's! Part o' his soul was-"  
  
"I know about that but you see Ron had a dream in Divination a few days ago when we were doing dreams and visions. He saw Sirius and he said something and the only word Ron remembers was 'Cybele' and then he fell to the ground, a zombie again. I don't know if it's real or fake or if he's okay and no one's telling me why he's at St. Mungo's-" He said all this very quickly.  
  
"Blimey, Harry," said Hagrid, surprised and patting him on the shoulder, "I never seen yeh so worried! Sit down," he said pointing at a chair by the fire. Harry was still standing outside. Hagrid eyed him like a father, which was very strange, yet strangely comforting. "The medic witches at St. Mungo's were told ter tell yeh - firs' - if anything came up... and yeh haven't heard a thing, so everything's right... right?"  
  
Harry rearranged himself, pulling his cloak back up, and fixing his hair which had become, if possible, messier, and sat on a huge chair by the fire.  
  
"So..." said Harry slowly, "so Sirius is in St. Mungo's, and... and they're waiting for the other half of his soul to return to him?" He calmed himself down a bit and took the tea Hagrid offered him and, not caring about how bad it might taste, took a slice of rock cake as well.  
  
Hagrid nodded, beaming.  
  
"It's just that" - and Harry took a sip of the tea - "just that if something happens to him, I haven't got anyone else..."  
  
"Nothin' happened ter him," Hagrid assured Harry. Harry's face turned into a smile, which immediately let off some of the pressure he had since Ron told his story, his heart sinking back into his chest. He broke into a weak sort of muffled laugh that lasted about a second.  
  
"I mean, if someone lied," said Harry, laughing at the absurdity of that statement, to which Hagrid's smile suddenly changed. Harry would have finished his sentence, but a different look appeared in Hagrid's beetle-black eyes and the smile in his tangled beard disappeared too.  
  
Harry's heart proceeded to rise up his throat again, heat clouding his forehead. He was worried again. The tension he relieved came back in full force. He stared at Hagrid, not saying anything and Hagrid's eyes avoided Harry's. Someone, clearly, wasn't being truthful. Harry's worries could be very real. The knocking on the door broke the nasty silence.  
  
"Hagrid," Hermione called, "it's us!"  
  
Hagrid immediately began smiling again and started towards the door but Harry beat him to it and put his back against it, preventing Hagrid from opening it and clutched the Order of Merlin plaque. Even that had no effect at this point. It was clear from the sudden change of looks on Hagrid's face, twice; the definite reassuredness from Hagrid that Sirius was just fine; the struggle for words the first time he asked about Sirius and the fact that Hagrid was now sweating; that Sirius was not okay.  
  
"No!" Harry panted. "You ARE lying!" As Harry expected, Hagrid's face became very stern, almost scary.  
  
"Harry!" shouted Hermione from outside, still banging on the door.  
  
"WHAT HAPPENED, HAGRID!" Harry shouted. "WHERE'S SIRIUS?"  
  
Something else hit him. The patient in the corner of the hospital wing... If Hagrid lied, who's to say someone else wasn't lying, too? No, not Sirius... If he's gone... It couldn't be...  
  
Hagrid made a move to grab Harry but he dodged it and flung the door wide open. Outside were Ron and Hermione, looking anxious from what they heard, but nothing near what Harry felt: pure terror over what state Sirius could be in.  
  
"Grab him!" Hagrid shouted. What good would grabbing Harry do? Nothing would stop him from getting to the hospital wing now, not even a balrog with his name on it.  
  
They were all too slow.  
  
Harry slipped through Ron and Hermione's fingers (Hagrid managed to pull Harry's cloak off, tearing it at the shoulders) and darted with more speed than natural up the grass leading into the castle.  
  
The patient in the hospital wing. It couldn't be Sirius... Dumbledore would never be involved in a lie so big. But if there ever was a time to tear the curtains open, now was it.  
  
Harry continued running faster than normal through the corridors and to the hospital wing, heart hammering. He flew past Snape. Dumbledore would never be involved in a lie so big. Madam Pomfrey spotted Harry and tried to stand in his path but he wasn't slowing down or moving out of the way. She flung a hand out but he barreled into it, knocking her clean away.  
  
"Mr. Potter, do not disturb my patients!" she snapped, getting to her feet, clearly disturbed at having been knocked down.  
  
Harry skidded to a halt in front of the familiar closed curtains in the corner. He put a sweaty hand, panting for air, on the side. Madam Pomfrey had gotten up, totally winded from being hit so hard and Harry could hear her coming towards him. Something didn't want him to open the curtain to see what he feared would be there: Sirius, a zombie again, in a worse condition than he had ever been, or worse, completely dead.  
  
It had to be bad or Madam Pomfrey wouldn't be pulling so hard on his arm, which dangled limply at his side, but she was no match. Harry stood his ground as if he was nailed to the spot and her grip felt like a mere feather. He put his free hand on top of her's and peeled it off, gripped her arm, then flung her across the room.  
  
Madam Pomfrey crashed into the far wall and Harry clutched the Order of Merlin plaque. He tore open the curtains, his heart in his throat and what felt like a fifty foot balrog sitting in the pit of his stomach.  
  
He saw but he didn't believe. His eyes were deceiving him. His worst fears were true.  
  
Lying, or rather, looking dead, was Sirius, completely white in the face, staring up at the ceiling above him, with eyes that looked more dead than a real corpse. The sight of which widened Harry's eyes to take in the full picture and the speed of his breath came at an all time high.  
  
Harry swallowed several times but nothing would force his organs back down his throat. He stood there, clutching the plaque in one hand, the other still holding the curtain and he still couldn't believe it. His hand on the plaque had no effect, a testament to how horrified he felt.  
  
All the footsteps became muffled, all the voices calling his name died away along with his will to be standing. All the hands grabbing him felt like a feather pulling him backward and all his might went into mindlessly tightening his grip on the Order of Merlin plaque waiting for it to do something, anything, so hard it cut into Harry's skin -- and he didn't notice, or did he and he just didn't care? His own warm blood dripping down his fingers didn't detract his attention. If Albus Dumbledore, of everyone Harry knew, would lie straight-out to him, it was bad and there were no questions to be asked except how bad.  
  
Harry staggered back a few stops, still not daring to believe it. That wasn't Sirius, that was just a look alike, he thought desperately. He took a few strangled gasps of air.  
  
Maybe it was the loss of blood that made him dizzy, maybe it was the thought of losing Sirius (no parents and now no godfather), maybe it was the guilty feeling burning in the back of his head that he caused Sirius to lose half his soul in the first place or was it the fact that someone slipped a potion down his throat? But Harry's legs became as water, the picture of Sirius faded to black, his hearing failed completely and when a hand on his shoulder pulled him back, Harry fell backwards onto the floor, numb, physically and emotionally, tearing the curtains off the posts. 


	11. Finding Peace

Chapter 11: FINDING PEACE  
  
There was no telling how long he was out. When Harry awoke, his hand was in a bandage and he was in a bed in a hospital wing. Someone had conveniently placed his other hand on top of the Order of Merlin plaque. Someone else was sitting on a chair beside him and there was no mistaking the owner of the long, silver beard and crooked nose. He must have been sitting there a long time, waiting for Harry to wake up.  
  
"Good evening, Harry," said Dumbledore cheerfully but there was a somber look on his face and Harry couldn't make out the expression behind the half-moon spectacles.  
  
He looked to his left and was staring at Sirius who was still pale, still white-faced, still looking dead.  
  
"He's dead, isn't he..." said Harry gloomily.  
  
He kept his hand on the plaque but his mood still didn't brighten. Dumbledore didn't reply. Harry turned to look at him, waiting for an answer. His hand was very sore. There was silence for about a minute where Dumbledore continued to stare into space and Harry guessed he was waiting for another question.  
  
"Why'd you lie?" asked Harry.  
  
"No, he is not dead," said Dumbledore finally, calmly.  
  
Okay, he is not dead but the news still did not brighten Harry's mood, either. There was a possibility he could be worse than dead -- completely soulless -- and would eventually get up an act like a real zombie.  
  
"What's wrong with him?"  
  
Dumbledore took a deep breath, rose from his seat and began pacing.  
  
"He did indeed go to St. Mungo's," said Dumbledore nervously, very much unlike his usual self. "The dementor was killed and what was thought to be the rest of his soul did escape. It took an awfully powerful Clades Ultimus from ten wizards to do the job. The half soul was spotted near St. Mungo's but it's intention was nothing as we thought. It had attempted to rip out the rest of itself so it could be completely free."  
  
"Why would it do that?" asked Harry, confused. "When I was a floating soul, I didn't hurt anyone!"  
  
"Very few of us have the will power to behave in a savaged state... and that is saying something," he said, smiling but then he went back to his somber tone. "You were yourself that summer, you were able to control yourself completely. Sirius cannot. There were so few cases where the soul could be reattached to it's body because only so few people could exhibit such extreme self control. If you will, remember back to our imposter Professor Moody. You were able to show signs of fighting off the Imperius Curse on the first try," he added, grinning faintly, then went back to his previous tone, again. "Sirius' soul managed to remove a further portion and without enough to call his own, slipped into a much worse state. Here, you see the result," he said, pointing towards Sirius. Harry didn't want to look.  
  
He wanted to ask why no one told him, but dreaded how it might come out. Would it sound like he was too delicate? Would it come out as a shout? But Dumbledore, as he so often did, seemed to read Harry's mind (or did the look on his face give the question away).  
  
"So often we are blinded by our attempts to please that we do not see the wrongness of our ways until it is too late. When the nurse witches at the hospital came to me with the situation, my immediate reaction was to notify you -"  
  
"- and why didn't you -"  
  
"but I did not," Dumbledore continued ignoring Harry. "Upon talking with Professors McGonagall and Snape -"  
  
"SNAPE?" shouted Harry. "Why should he - ever - be involved with anything about me?"  
  
"- and Arthur Weasley, we came to the conclusion of bringing Sirius back to Hogwarts where the rogue soul could not enter the grounds. Here now is the result of what we tried to avoid. You gave Madam Pomfrey quite a fright and not until Professor Flitwick managed slip a Draught of Living Death potion into your mouth were we able to detain you. It did not last very long, either."  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow. Snape had once said there was an excessively powerful sleeping potion called the Draught of Living Death.  
  
"Indeed. Just as what happened at the Fire Quidditch game, we don't know how you were able to stand rooted to the ground like a stone statue. You also managed to cut your hand very badly." At that, Harry remembered another question he had, now that he had a few minutes to brood on Sirius. He let go of the plaque and without saying anything yet, Dumbledore got the idea right away.  
  
"Professor, whenever I hold this thing..."  
  
"The most powerful magic of all is that of self-confidence and other feelings that start up here" -- he pointed to the top of his head -- "and other beliefs in yourself that start in your mind. Receiving an Order of Merlin came as such a shock that things you deemed as acts just for friends and desperacy started to feel more like what they really were: acts by a young wizard with a bit more heart than he could see. I bet whenever you look at it you still don't think it's really yours," he added, beaming.  
  
Dumbledore was right. Harry picked up and looked at it again. No matter how many times he blinked, in white gold were the words Harry James Potter written upon it. He sometimes thought he was used to it but all he needed to do to shoot that down was to look at it again.  
  
"The necklace is not magical nor is it bewitched. You feel something whenever you hold it because that necklace is the result of everything you've ever done, every life you've ever saved, every hardship you've ever endured and every life you've ever touched." Dumbledore stopped pacing and walked to the foot of Harry's bed, smiling broadly. "Yet you have a tendency towards downplaying it all because there's only one thing that you have wanted to accomplish for five years.  
  
"Holding that plaque reminds you nothing you have done is a waste and it is that feeling of self-confidence that you have been hanging over since you moved into Privet Drive. When you hold it and feel nothing, it is then that I feel you'll understand all the things you've ever wondered and couldn't find the answers to."  
  
"But when I was holding earlier I didn't feel anything and I'm not closer to answering anything," said Harry slowly, more to himself than to Dumbledore.  
  
"I am afraid you will have to find the distinction between feelings battling each other and knowing when you are content with yourself on your own. Remember this, Harry: I believe I once said, 'remember if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy.' Clearly, you have more hardships ahead of you and there will be many forks in the road. Do not, Harry, take the one with bad consequences as you have not so far."  
  
This left Harry far more confused than he started out. Dumbledore was finished with his speech and simply left. As long a speech as it was, almost all of the words would stick in Harry's mind.  
  
Madam Pomfrey came in moments after Dumbledore left with a very disturbing look on her face. Was she going to give Harry his comeuppance for nearly breaking her arm and sending her flying across the room?  
  
"I'm sorry," he said before she could open her mouth. She stopped her stride of death towards Harry's bed and just smiled. It was very strange.  
  
"Understandable," she said. "Well, I'm happy to see you awake. We thought you would be out for a week. Did the Headmaster manage to put you in better spirits," she said. It wasn't even a question and it sounded very businesslike as she continued walking, but turned to Harry's bedside table on which lay a small goblet of frothing, smelly, swirly black and brown potion. It looked rather like it tasted very bad and would sting horribly if put on skin.  
  
"Sort of," he said quietly. It was true... sort of. "How long do I have to wear this thing on my hand?"  
  
"You have to take it off now so I can rub this on it," she said, picking up the potion and waving it in his face. "Amazingly deep cuts you managed to make on yourself," she said exasperatedly. Madam Pomfrey's ability to change moods in the blink of an eye was unmatched.  
  
Harry took the bandage off and looked at his hand. There were scar lines where the cuts had been, stretching from his middle to ring finger and across the base of his thumb. The inside of the bandage was stained red.  
  
Madam Pomfrey held his hand pointing up and poured out the entire goblet onto his hand. It didn't sting or hurt like so many potions did and to Harry's amazement, the scars disappeared before his eyes. Madam Pomfrey tossed the empty bottle into a trash bin and disappeared once more to return a minute later with a golden plate from the Great Hall. He had missed dinner and looking outside, it must be past midnight.  
  
"You may leave once you've eaten, Potter." She placed it on the table next to him and immediately a tuna sandwich appeared on it. Not very appetizing, but Harry was quite hungry.  
  
Back in the Gryffindor common room, Ron and Hermione were playing a game of chess, alone. It looked like Ron was going to lose, until Hermione's King pointed out to Ron that he could win with his Knights.  
  
"That's totally unfair!" she screeched.  
  
"Blame your King," Ron sniggered as his own King decapitated a Bishop.  
  
One of Hermione's pawns moved for her, apparently disgusted at her style of play ("Hey!").  
  
"Checkmate!" Ron said as his Knight stood in victory, wagging it's tail merrily.  
  
Harry, unseen so far, stepped closer and said, "What did you expect, Hermione, it's his chess set," giggling.  
  
"It was all luck!" shouted Hermione's traitorous King. "And she didn't even see how to put the other King in Check!" All the broken pieces became one again and Ron put them all in a bag as they went lifeless.  
  
"Harry!" Hermione screeched again, bright eyed and smiling, but then she became somber as she remembered what happened.  
  
"No," said Harry, half gloomily, "it's... it's okay. Dumbledore told me everything." He explained what Dumbledore had told him.  
  
"They just didn't want to see you go to pieces," said Hermione, standing by Dumbledore's decision, "like you did."  
  
"He still lied to me," said Harry.  
  
"It's not like you haven't lied to him before," snapped Hermione. Harry felt guilty. This was true; he should have seen it coming. "There's nothing you can do, Harry," she then said quickly, reading his mind.  
  
But what could he do? The potion failed. The rest of his soul didn't want to come back and the potion backfired: the other half used it come back and steal the rest of itself. This all began to sound really weird and Harry thought it best to put it out of his mind, or did he? So far, no one's died under his watch unless he could help it. Cedric Diggory died, but he listened to a shadow of Cedric's request to bring his body back to his parents... parents... Harry shouldn't have thought of that word. Nope, Sirius was a hopeless case and the most Harry could do was stare at the face that simply stared back.  
  
Whatever effect Dumbledore's words had were completely lost. Gripping the Order of Merlin plaque continued to have no effect as he climbed the spiral stairs to his dormitory. There was always something he could do, even if it was just minor, and it usually ended up being the thing to save the day. Now, however, it looked like he had hit a dead end. Hermione, useful as she was, as apparent over the next week, was sticking to Dumbledore's belief that Harry needed to put the thought of Sirius to rest and let St. Mungo's deal with it. But as Dumbledore kindly (or unkindly, depending on how you look at it) reminded Harry on a visit the next Saturday morning after breakfast, if Sirius was returned to St. Mungo's, the soul could very well finish it's work.  
  
They left the decision up to Harry as to what to do and he decided to keep Sirius at Hogwarts. Nobody was capable of anything. Harry sat and ran over the thought in his head constantly that he should have let Sirius stay at Azkaban. Better to be downtrodden and depressed than go without a soul. But, no, again, he remembered that he wanted to pull Sirius from his wrongful confines. It got him front page on the Daily Prophet and a feeling of guilt he would probably carry all his life.  
  
What did Dumbledore's words matter anymore? "Holding that plaque reminds you nothing you have done is a waste," he had said but it wasn't true. It was a waste of time pulling Sirius from Azkaban. Gone from Harry's mind were all the things Sirius had done over the summer. None of that mattered anymore. "Clearly, you have more hardships ahead of you and there will be many forks in the road. Do not, Harry, take the one with bad consequences as you have not so far."  
  
Yes, now Harry understood. Dumbledore tried his very best to cheer him up but Harry saw right through that lie as well that Saturday evening after dinner. He stared into the photo album Hagrid gave him while lying in bed. Instead of staring at Sirius, Harry was staring at a photo of his mom and dad, arm in arm, on their wedding day. Maybe Dumbledore was right. It was a great idea trying to keep this news from Harry. There James and Lily stood, Sirius at their side, waving merrily. It wasn't so bad. Harry wasn't born yet so he couldn't be at their wedding, anyway.  
  
Ron and Hermione were clearly getting depressed at Harry's mood as well. He had taken to not wearing the Order of Merlin necklace out of protest. Snape took this is as a personal insult. In his mind, Harry had it and didn't wear it which was even more spiteful.  
  
As such, conversations between the two became even more heated and the time could not be worse to be arguing with Harry over a subject so touchy as -  
  
"Your parents, they would be proud, I'm sure," said Snape coldly, his sallow face contorted into the sickest of nasty smiles. "Pulling Sirius from Azkaban, getting front page on the Daily Prophet, too!"  
  
Harry never more felt like pulling out his wand, making the mark of ancients glow as bright as the sun and casting one last Clades Ultimus. His fingers were trembling, making the goblet in his hands spill it's contents onto the floor. Not much of it made it into his cauldron. He pointed his wand at a cloth on Snape's desk, which flew into his hand, and he wiped the mess up.  
  
Harry then muttered, "Accio necklace," under his breath so no one could hear. Within seconds, in from a crack in the dungeon door came the Order of Merlin necklace, right into Harry's outstretched hand. He put it on, right in front of Snape. There was a vein throbbing in Snape's temple. He continued to tower over Harry like some kind of overbearing beast, his hair as greasy and disgusting as ever. Something about the angle at which he stood magnified the crookedness of his nose.  
  
Maybe it was the tenseness of the moment, but Snape blurted out something that he didn't truly mean, or did he?  
  
"Deserved what he got, your father, as did Sirius."  
  
And it was plainly obvious from Harry's reaction that Snape should not have said that. The entire classed turned to look at Harry as he squeezed a tad too hard on his goblet and it shattered beneath his fingers. There was no controlling the visible shaking throughout his entire body and the heavy breathing that ensued. His tone was far more cold and venomous than Snape's had ever been. It wasn't fear, it wasn't even hatred; it was a wish for Snape to just disappear and never come back. He didn't look at Snape as he spoke, he simply looked at some place in front of him.   
  
"Never," Harry started softly, unable to control the shaking in his voice, "- talk - about my parents - in front of me - EVER - again." He didn't need to shout it for it to have the effect he wanted.  
  
Even Snape stood rooted to the spot, his eyes on the tip of Harry's wand, which was clutched tightly in Harry's hand and from which gold and scarlet sparks were emitting. Everyone listened for a minute to the terrifying silence before Harry spoke again.  
  
"I've got too much to think about without your damn useless babble."  
  
Snape took it as a warning rather than an insult and backed away.  
  
Harry had a chance to relieve some of his pent up energy in Herbology later that day. Professor Sprout brought in man-eating plants. You had to cut it's head off with a pair of extra long scissors (or a really long sword if you weren't feeling up to managing ten foot long scissors) before you could work with it.  
  
Professor Sprout watched in horror as Harry wasted no time in smashing the head of his with his foot against the desk, killing it. He clamped his hand tightly around it's jaws and yanked hard, tearing the head right off and he then chucked it into the trash bin Professor Sprout set up for the heads.  
  
Hermione's tried to bite her hand off a few minutes later but Harry pulled the head off with both hands in one quick, smooth motion. She goggled at him.  
  
"Are you going to extract the juice out of it or aren't you?" he snapped.  
  
Hermione hurriedly squeezed the main stem over a huge goblet, the juice pouring out of it.  
  
One good thing that had recently come was the fact that Draco Malfoy was no longer popping up at random intervals cracking jokes or otherwise upsetting Harry. It indeed looked like he had his ways changed the minute Harry had stopped that sword from killing him. Now if only he could do the same for Snape...  
  
The next few weeks were some of the most boring and irritable ones Harry had ever experienced even when compared to a few similiarly miserable ones during the Triwizard Tournament two years ago. Not Cho's face nor the start of the Quidditch season brightened Harry up. Professor Trelawney did not make matters any better by goggling at Harry during class every time and reminding him that she saw what would happen to Sirius the minute they put him on the Soul-Saver potion. Nor was Harry made to feel any better by frequent nightmares, nightmares of Sirius yelling at Harry from a cell in Azkaban.  
  
"You - killed - me!" Sirius growled, his face screwed up in the angriest face Harry had ever seen in his entire life.  
  
"No!" Harry shouted back. "I - I didn't... I just..."  
  
Every time Harry woke with a start, sweat glazing his forehead, always aware of his breath, always aware of the heat in his face and never forgetting how long it took before he could fall back to sleep each time -- if he could at all. Not once did it wake anyone else up, thankfully. And what good did it matter that Sirius wasn't really dead? He wasn't going to get up from that bed and walk around any time soon, kept telling himself. And every time Harry had the dream, he believed more and more that he was responsible for Sirius...  
  
During one particular class in which Professor Trelawney was trying different methods of making them see during dreams, she had Harry sprawled out across the floor on a wolf pelt. There he lay on his back, spread-eagle, feeling more like an idiot than anything else. At least it was cooler in the room when you were lying down but the smell still caught his nose.  
  
"Just so you know," Harry reminded everyone, "if I see anything about You-Know-Who, I'm saying his name." For once, Ron and Hermione didn't shudder at the thought of hearing "Voldemort," but everyone else did, including Professor Trelawney.  
  
Harry cleared the hair out of his eyes, fixed his glasses and prepared himself to be waking up with his scar burning in pain. Professor Trelawney told him that he might see a way out of his current state of troubles. Harry told her she just might as well have him stare at a brick wall. She also let him know that the reason he didn't get to have a go last time was because she knew he would see what happened to Sirius...  
  
"Now, my dear," she began in her usual misty voice that upset Harry more than usual, "clear your conscious," -- try as he might, and he didn't try very hard as it was just not possible, he couldn't -- "relax the Inner Eye."  
  
He closed his eyes, dreading what might pop up, and felt Professor Trelawney slip a few drops of sleeping potion down his mouth.  
  
Harry felt the world disappear and the floor beneath him became as air. The heat of the room became satisfyingly cool and the horrible smell disappeared. He felt the Order of Merlin plaque, which he wore again ever since Potions, pressing against his chest underneath his robes become lighter and lighter until it felt like it was no longer there. His arms and legs no longer sent any signals to his fingers and toes to move and the rest of his body became dead weight.  
  
All Harry could see was utter blackness as he felt like he was being released from his body, being pulled upward. It was easily the strangest feeling he ever experiened. Everything was black, everything, until swirls of colors and shapes, small as dust floating in the air, grew larger and larger. Distant sounds that echoed, echoed less and less as they came closer and closer. The rising sensation stopped and the sight before him eventually filled his eyes completely. Sound became perfectly normal again, as if he was there.  
  
What he saw made no sense. He saw through the eyes of someone but there was no way of telling who. They were running, fast, through a forest. Something in the back of Harry's head wanted to wake up, tried to get his brain going. His mind did not work on his request and try as he might to interpret it right here, right now, he couldn't and so the best he could do was watch.  
  
He caught a glimpse of a pair of human feet but there was no way of telling who the owner was just by their white, dragon hide boots. The sound of branches and grass and everything else as he ran past died away and all he heard was the heavy breathing of the person he was seeing through and their extremely heavy footsteps. The person must be very tired or simply wanted to run as fast as possible.  
  
The sound returned to normal again as the person tore through a path on the forest ground. He did not recognize any part of it but this was, again, probably because Harry's brain wasn't responding. The person stopped moving and his view suddenly fell several feet, almost level to the ground. This new view didn't last long.  
  
Everything faded away, the sound with it, and he felt himself falling. Feeling returned to his fingers, legs, arms and toes. Harry became aware again of the Order of Merlin necklace pressing against him and the wolf pelt beneath him. There was no reason to be sweating or feeling awkward at all -- and he didn't. The dream was just very odd to say the least.  
  
Harry's eyes jerked open and Professor Trelawney was standing over him in such eagerness to know what Harry saw that she was bursting to say, "My dear! What did you see!"  
  
"Nothing too interesting for once," said Harry, the left part of his upper lip curling, squinting his eyes in confusion.  
  
He turned to look at Ron sitting on a pouf next to him, who let out a great breath of relief and smiled. Though it didn't appear to be anything bad, Harry still didn't feel like smiling.  
  
"Well, my dear?" said Professor Trelawney.  
  
"Right," said Harry, trying not to forget anything. Trouble was, there was not much to forget and for some reason, this bothered him. "I was seeing through the eyes of someone running through a forest very fast. They seemed scared and there were odd sounds coming from everywhere, like really large creatures. After a bit, they stopped and I think they fell and it was over."  
  
Professor Trelawney, for once, looked at Harry, not with a tragic expression, but one of great confusion.  
  
"Have you ever had this before?"  
  
Harry racked his brains, which thankfully, were fully functional. Yes, he did have this once before, something very similiar, but... He would have to explain it and he felt himself go pink around the ears.  
  
"I had a dream before I woke up in the forest after Voldemort" -- and the reaction was as he liked it to be -- "hit me with Avada Kedavra again. Some voice told me to run so I got to my feet and, well, ran."  
  
He didn't feel much like explaining the feelings that ran through him again as he recalled exactly every part of that dream. It was clear as day, he felt all the things he felt during the dream that he wished to never feel again.  
  
"After a few minutes I just fainted and when I woke up, I really was in the forest. Why would I have the same dream twice?"  
  
But really, he knew there were some differences. He wasn't wearing dragon hide boots. Should he hide this detail? It made less sense with it. Then he remembered his promise to Sirius, which, at this point, meant everything. The promise was that he would tell anyone anything about everything if it bothered him.  
  
"Okay, not the same dream," Harry admitted. "The person was wearing dragon hide boots. I had Quidditch boots."  
  
Professor Trelawney was left at a loss for words. This could only mean one of two things, as Ron pointed out over dinner.  
  
"Either she knows what's going on, or she doesn't and it's left her worrying even more," he said matter-of-factly.  
  
But Harry had the dream more than once. That very same night, it returned exactly as it had, everything exactly as it was during Divination, only when he woke up after it was over, there was a slight tingle in his scar. It put quite a bit more fear in him than he was comfortable dealing with on his own so he woke Ron up without thinking.  
  
Harry told him about his scar hurting a little and it was still tingling during the several-minute silence as Ron thought of something to say. After several more minutes of both of them just staring blankly at each other, Ron opened his mouth to say something and moved it once but no sound came out.  
  
And for the very first time as Ron explained the situation to Hermione at breakfast with Harry quietly eating, they knew everything of what was bothering him just as it had come. It made him feel quite a bit better and holding the Order of Merlin plaque started to have an effect again. Things were almost back to normal, Harry thought, before he discovered about Sirius.  
  
But there was still the guilt he felt over Sirius and it only took one accidental mention by Neville, comparing Sirius to his own parents halfway into breakfast to put Harry back into a dark mood again. Sirius, Harry's parents and the disgusting comparison to Neville's own parents made Harry lose his appetite. He let go of the plaque and listened as Hermione looked at Neville with fire in her eyes.  
  
"NEVILLE!" she bellowed angrily.  
  
Neville merely made a few indistinct noises in the back of his throat. As much as his own parents bothered him, deep down he knew the feeling was nothing compared to what Harry had been feeling ever since Sirius fell ill again. Neville kept his mouth shut through lunch that day, too.  
  
Ron must have sent a letter home explaining about Harry's very depressing, somewhat contagious behavior because when Hedwig dropped an owl during lunch into Harry's plate, Ron turned as red as his hair. It was obvious because Harry could count the number of times he got mail. He gave Hedwig a strip of bacon and she flew off happily towards the Owlery. Harry then read the letter to himself.  
  
Dear Harry,  
  
I hope Ron isn't around when you get this because he's going to be very upset with me. Perhaps if it would make you feel any better, Ron's father and I spoke to Dumbledore and he agreed you could possibly stay with us during Christmas vacation. Do try to cheer up. Ginny tells us that even Peeves is starting to look dismal.  
  
Sincerely,  
Molly Weasley.  
  
Indeed, Harry's bad mood started to permeate through some people. Peeves started to listen to him as well as the usual people: the Bloody Baron, Slytherin House's ghost, and Dumbledore. Usually, Peeves spited everyone. but Harry's newly-found, yet unfortunate, aura of I'm-going-to-curse-you-if-you-bother-me started to have an effect on the ravenous poltergeist. Sure enough, stupid Peeves tried to trip Harry on a rug after being particularly mean to the caretaker, Argus Filch. Peeves must have been feeling particularly smug because he pushed his luck.  
  
"DRACONUS ICICLIA!" thundered Harry. Professor McGonagall, behind him, jumped, he shouted so loudly.  
  
A tremendous flurry of snow erupted at the end of Harry's wand like a blizzard. It formed into a dragon made of ice so large it was size of Dumbledore's lightning dragon but with the strength charm, Fortitudinus, casted with the mark of ancients. The muscles around it's arms, neck, legs and tail bulged out so much that Peeves darted headlong through the nearest wall, narrowly missing getting the front end of a Hagrid-sized snowball. It collided with the wall and exploded into a thousand flurries, making it look like it had snowed inside the corridor.  
  
Professor McGongall melted them with a heating charm and Harry entered Transfiguration with an evil smirk on his face.  
  
Clearly, something had to be done about Harry's mood and there was only one other person left in the world that he held a special place for (but he would never admit it).  
  
That person... was Cho. 


	12. Cho

Chapter 12: CHO  
  
Harry didn't talk to Hermione after she suggested the most ridiculous thing ever: that Harry go with Cho to Hogsmeade... alone. Sixth years and up were allowed to stay a bit longer this year, even past dinner. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that Hermione spoke to Professor Dumbledore about extending the time limit and like so many times before, he was not pleased. The other thing that confirmed his suspicion was that the first Hogsmeade visit was usually at the end of October, not at the start.  
  
Sure, they talked a bit and sure, Harry thought she was very pretty but how did she feel? This was his biggest fear every single time they passed in the corridors. Harry never noticed before that Cho never failed to steal a smile at him, surrounded by a bunch of her friends, giggling, until now. Once before did he think giggling should be made illegal...  
  
Above all, it had the effect that Hermione hoped for. Harry was no longer moping around; it was exchanged for blushing in the presence of Cho. But it was an improvement, Harry realized. All in all, he began to feel that - no, would she? He never... he couldn't even think about it. He would have to ask if she wanted to go to Hogsmeade with him on a... date... (the mere word made him shudder).  
  
Hermione forced Harry to do it because he wouldn't have done it on his own. She even stood behind the nearest wall, out of sight, so that he wouldn't know she made sure that he did it. Neither of them knew that Dumbledore found out about what Harry was about to do. He would definitely be pleased to hear that something was taking Sirius off Harry's mind. So Harry, after Defense Against the Dark Arts, before lunch, the day before the Hogsmeade visit, was forced to ask Cho something.  
  
He stepped out of the classroom. She passed by every time and this time was no different. As he saw her coming down the corridor, heading towards the Great Hall, there was a grumble in his stomach that he was sure had nothing to do with being hungry. He merely nodded to her, motioning to have a word alone. This was far more embarassing than asking her to the Yule Ball. This wasn't just a dance... Cho's friends continued towards the Great Hall, leaving Harry to his embarassment.  
  
The corridor cleared, Hermione standing behind a wall out of sight of Harry and Cho. Harry felt like he was being watched, causing a tingling feeling on the back of his neck. He couldn't look around to see who it was, Cho would think him odd.  
  
For a frightening moment, Cho stared and Harry felt as if he had lockjaw. There was a very, very strong urge to grab the Order of Merlin plaque but how dumb would that look?  
  
"You wanted to ask me something?" she said. Cho giggled; Harry wanted to scream.  
  
Suddenly, the muscles in his jaw were moveable again.  
  
"Do - d'you," Harry stuttered.  
  
This was far more difficult than Hermione made it sound. Should he said say the "D" word? No, that would also look dumb.  
  
He nervously scratched the hairs on the back of his neck that were standing up as he looked at his feet and said, "Would you - like to go to Hogsmeade - together?"  
  
Harry couldn't bring himself to say "alone." He stopped scratching as soon as mouth stopped moving and put his hands in his pockets. Cho got the hint from the uneasy look on Harry's face as he continued to stare at his feet. She smiled pleasantly. The last time she did that, she was going to the Yule Ball with Cedric Diggory. Harry suddenly looked up at her, horrified, and blurted out, "You're not - not going with someone already?"  
  
Cho giggled and Harry wanted to scream again.  
  
"No -"  
  
"No you don't want to go or no you're going with someone?" he asked hastily.  
  
Cho took a step closer and Harry took a step back, feeling the grumbling in his stomach again.  
  
"I'm not going with someone else," she said to Harry's great relief, "and yes I do want to go with you." Cho didn't get to say anything else because the heat rising in Harry's face let him know he was going to pass out. He should have grabbed the Order of Merlin plaque.  
  
Harry felt like passing out again as he lie on the floor, Cho kneeling over him. She was holding a goblet full of water, some of which she splashed on his face. He quickly snatched the plaque out from under his robes and stole a quick squeeze as pulled himself up, making it look like he was just moving it.  
  
That did the trick and he wasn't quite so nervous as they walked to dinner, talking about what they could do. Both of them decided they would spend the afternoon up until around six o'clock with their own friends then meet in the Three Broomsticks.  
  
Cho split towards the Ravenclaw table, Harry to the Gryffindor table and he sat in between Hermione and Seamus Finnigan. Hermione glared and her face plainly asked a question.  
  
"Yes," said Harry, and for the first time in a long time, he smiled. He felt a huge wave of new, warm and fuzzy life spread over every bit of him, like smiling was the solution to any problem.  
  
Dumbledore swept passed them from the entrance, eyes sparkling behind the half-moon spectacles. He was usually already up a the staff table by this time. And then, quite suddenly, Harry's jaw dropped.  
  
How further embarassing.  
  
Was - was Dumbledore watching him and Cho? The wink Dumbledore gave Harry confirmed it.  
  
He was slightly horrified but the shock couldn't last long, not when he was going to Hogsmeade with Cho tomorrow, alone. He simply smiled again and kept giggling to himself all through dinner at random points for no reason. Harry giggled so much in fact that, at one point, Ron told him they were going to have to give him a wig, stuff pillows under his shirt and change his name to Harriet.  
  
Harry didn't care. He was going to Hogsmeade with Cho tomorrow, alone. In fact, it kept him up for an extra hour after he climbed into his four-post bed, closed the curtains and pulled his covers over himself that night.  
  
The very next morning, some of that excitement turned into butterflies. He even fussed over what he should wear... until he spotted his dad's old cloak hidden deep in his trunk. It was black like his Hogwarts cloak except the sleeves were slightly shiny. And for once, he decided to let the Order of Merlin necklace hang outside his robes, the plaque visible to anyone, and conveniently part his bangs where the scar on his forehead was visible just for gags.  
  
His quick change of mood was very noticeable during breakfast, especially when he tried to eat his bagel with a knife and fork.  
  
"Harry, that's a bagel," said Hermione.  
  
"Right," Harry muttered and he bit off so much it took him a full minute to chew it all.  
  
At the very least, it was sunny outside and fairly cool but not too cold. When everyone finally arrived at Hogsmeade, there was a mad dash towards a new store that opened up, according to the sign, a few months ago.  
  
"Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes," said Hermione. "So they finally did it."  
  
"Been doing great! Mind, mom and dad weren't keen on the idea,," said Ron. "They asked so many times how they managed to get one thousand galleons to start it up. Never found out and they won't tell me."  
  
Should Harry tell? For the winning the Triwizard Tournament, he was awarded those one thousand galleons. Harry gave it to Fred and George because he couldn't bear to have it, not when Cedric Diggory had died that very same day and Lord Voldemort returned to power. It should have been Cedric's. Harry himself nearly died in the process of taking the Triwizard Cup, which had been turned into a Portkey, back to Hogwarts grounds with the body of Cedric at his side.  
  
What harm was there in telling?  
  
"I gave it to them," said Harry quietly, still staring up at the shop's sign in awe.  
  
"You what!" shouted Ron in shock.  
  
"The Triwizard Tournament, remember? I couldn't keep that. The Diggorys wouldn't take it but I threatened to curse your brothers if they didn't."  
  
Harry grinned at the shock on Ron's face. For a scary moment, Harry thought Ron might try and hug him, but was glad he didn't.  
  
"What are you waiting for?" someone shouted from inside. "Make way for the man who started it all!"  
  
It was Fred. He bustled out of the shop, wearing a ridiculous hat, bright orange robes and a white cloak. He seized Harry's hand, while George seized Ron and Hermione's, and pulled them inside.  
  
A wall was dedicated to the two things that Harry saw them making during the times he stayed at the Weasley home. Ton-Tongue Toffee (which had once extended Dudley's tongue several feet), Canary Creams (Neville ate one and sprouted feathers for a few moments) and their famous fake wands (one of which they once sold to Ludo Bagman).  
  
But there were plenty of other things as well, many of which looked like they might explode if you touched them. Indeed, Neville caused a shelf to fall down. George, in his white robes and orange cloak, scowled and ushered Neville towards a less dangerous shop.  
  
Harry, not being too keen on explosives or practical jokes at the moment, went straight for Honeyduke's Sweetshop. He walked out with his money bag much lighter, carrying a bag full of cream-filled chocolates, Chocolate Frogs, two boxes of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans and one box of a strange, black chocolate bar with thick, swirly brown stuff inside of it that tasted remarkably good. In fact, it tasted a lot like what he knew as a Milk-Way from the Muggle world.  
  
The shopkeeper couldn't resist giving Harry and "his friends" a sample of their latest. It was square, each piece about two inches. The outside was made of white chocolate and in the middle was the face of a famous witch or wizard. Harry was very upset to find his own face on the piece Ron had. Ron smudged the chocolate Harry's face with his finger and they all took a bite. Harry tasted a tad of butterbeer; overall it was the single best piece of chocolate he ever had.  
  
When he opened a Chocolate Frog while walking down High Street towards Dervish and Banges, he frowned again to see a card of himself. Harry turned it over and read aloud.  
  
HARRY POTTER  
  
(Order of Merlin, First Class)  
  
CURRENTLY ATTENDING HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDY  
  
Having done many admirable things in five short years, young Potter is shrouded in many mysteries. From the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead, his ability to speak Parseltongue, unexplained magic phenomenon and his ability to control lightning, many are left wondering if he is to become the next Albus Dumbledore. Potter is also known to be an heir of Godric Gryffindor who, unknown to many, was a descendent of the powerful, ancient wizards. Potter enjoys playing Quidditch at Hogwarts and is a world-reknown Seeker, which was set in stone after his performance two years in a row at Fire Quidditch.  
  
"They forgot I have strange dreams and I can tell if someone is following or watching me," said Harry, grinning.  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione spent a good few hours in Dervish and Banges, staring at all the new odd magical items they ordered. Harry pondered whether it would be worth his time to buy another Sneakoscope but came to the conclusion that he never used the other one in the first place. He spotted the compass Mr. Weasley used during the Fire Quidditch game and signs that Disapparate to the nearest trash can all on their own when an object is thrown at them. They were called Throw-Away Signs.  
  
Hermione pointed out a wand-cleaning kit that Harry quickly purchased. Looking at his wand, it was a bit dirty and no longer had that new, wooden shine.  
  
After lunch, Hermione forced Harry and Ron into Gladrag's Wizardwear. Harry and Ron stood at the entrance, gauking at a bunch of self-washing cloaks.  
  
"What?" said one of them in a deep, hoarse and clearly annoyed voice.  
  
Harry noticed the tag said it was made in Italy. The shopkeeper tapped it with her wand and it fell lifeless.  
  
"Getting out of hand, these things," said the witch. "Can't leave them alone for one minute! And no one wants to buy them!" she shrieked.  
  
"Wonder why," Ron muttered to Harry.  
  
Ron was glad to see Hermione, after an hour's time, stride towards them with two bags full of stuff.  
  
"Ooh," said Harry suddenly looking at something.  
  
"What?" said Ron. "Don't tell me you're going to buy something too."  
  
But what Harry was staring at was far more interesting than the pair of clawed gloves a troll just bought.  
  
"Dragon hide boots!" he said pointing at them.  
  
"Oh, they are nice," said Hermione, admiring them. "And they're only ten galleons and six sickles!"  
  
Harry snatched the white boots from the wall stand and paid for them. They had a black trim at the top and bottom. Of course, he wouldn't be allowed to wear them during the week because Hogwarts students were required to wear their black shoes. He could wear them on weekends and during the summer... but who cares, he wanted them.  
  
When six o'clock rolled around, Ron and Hermione left with most of the other students to go back to Hogwarts and Harry made his way back to the Three Broomsticks. He must have been cold because he gave a shiver -- or was it because he was nervous? A strong draft from the door rattled his cloak and necklace. He moved the Order of Merlin plaque from his shoulder, where the wind had placed it, to the front of himself and in doing so, a minute wave of calmness crept over him. Cho was already sitting down by the fire. There was nothing at her table and she looked up at Harry as he came closer. If he hadn't stolen a hold of the plaque, he thought his legs might have frozen up.  
  
"Hey," said Harry as Cho said, "Hi."  
  
Harry immediately accepted the fact that this was going to be awkward indeed. He sat down directly opposite her and rubbed his hands in front of himself for it was a lot colder now than it had been earlier... or was he just shivering because he was nervous?  
  
"Cold out," said Harry, hoping Cho would say yes (he really wanted to know if it was and that he wasn't just shaking out of nervousness).  
  
"It is," she said.  
  
Okay, thought Harry, it's a start and now I just have to keep it going until we decide to order something. He had been alone talking to Hermione but that had never caused strange folding feelings in his stomach.  
  
"So, how are things?" said Cho.  
  
Harry's mind raced. This was a bit more work than he thought it would be and he was suddenly very self-conscious about every word that was to escape him. Is this normal, he asked himself? He shouldn't burden her with his worries, not when the barely knew each other (or rather, when Harry barely knew anything about Cho).  
  
"All - all right," said Harry. "How about you?"  
  
"Oh," said Cho slightly gloomy, looking down at the table, "don't ask."  
  
This caught Harry's interest. He never saw Cho looking sad, though, he had to admit, he didn't quite expect this now.  
  
"No," said Harry comfortingly, "go on... What? - What is it?"  
  
"Are you sure?" she asked, looking up at him like he wasn't going to say yes.  
  
Harry simply smiled. This wasn't going to be so bad after all. She was going to tell him something and he would get a chance to comfort her.  
  
"I've only told a few of my friends," she started softly, "but my dad's lost it when You-Know-Who had survived another blast of the Killing Curse," she said with a small, but very effective, amount of anger. It didn't take much -- her eyes began to water. Harry didn't take much notice as he was busy trying to fight down the redness in his face. "And I mean totally lost it. Thinks You-Know-Who is back in power, runs for his life at loud noises (thinks it's You-Know-Who outside our house), sometimes just won't do anything -- even eat or talk... can hear him talking to himself in his sleep. And sometimes he stays up all night muttering to himself -- that really scares me. If you try to tell him Harry Potter stopped You-Know-Who, he breaks down crying, singing praises... I wouldn't mention it but he's getting out of hand lately... he yells at everyone for no reason now, even guests. Can't trust him around anyone."  
  
This was definitely not what Harry had in mind. Cho took a big sniff, rested one hand on the table and held her forehead with the other.  
  
"He was an Auror. Honestly, he wasn't good at it. He tried but the Ministry was just taking anyone. I guess after all those years at failing to catch You-Know-Who an emotional breakdown was kinda on the way... My mom says he's just getting over it but he's been just getting over it for about twenty years and it hit rock bottom last year... he's doing all of that more and more."  
  
Harry was left with no path to take to react. She took out a self-disposing tissue from inside her handbag and blew her nose into it. She let go and it immediately flew out of sight, supposedly towards the nearest trash bin. She was now sobbing more loudly into her hand.  
  
"It... can't be... that bad," said Harry, struggling to find something comforting to say (nothing was coming), "can it?"  
  
"Can't be that bad?" she asked, turning slowly to look at him before looking down again. She sniffed. "You don't know what it's like! We tried sending him to St. Mungo's and he came back a week later. They couldn't do anything..."  
  
Harry blinked. It reminded him of Neville's parents.  
  
"I-I'm sorry," she went on. "My mom... she... she keeps trying to find excuses. Said he's finding his way, needs time off... She still loves him, she keeps telling me," said Cho dismissively, trying to wipe the tears away. "I don't love him anymore. How can she... and she brings in all the money from a stupid store in Knockturn Alley."  
  
"No," said Harry sincerely and without thinking, getting up. "Don't wipe the tears away." He moved to Cho and grabbed the arm she was using to wipe her face.  
  
"Why not?" she said, looking at Harry again. She looked unpleasant when so upset. "This is supposed to be about us, not me..."  
  
Harry's mind still wasn't going and he continued to talk without giving thought to what he was saying.  
  
"It doesn't do any good to hide what you're feeling," he said. Cho sniffed and held a tissue up to her nose, still trying to fight back tears.  
  
"Look at me," Cho sniffed, "crying my eyes out." She went to rest her head on her arms but Harry let her rest it on his shoulder instead.  
  
There was a surreal quality to the scene.  
  
If someone had told Harry the day before that he would be comforting someone like he had longed to have been comforted, he would surely have called them crazy. Harry put an arm around her. She didn't fight off anything he did.  
  
"I hate my dad," Cho blurted out. "My mom tries so hard to make me accept him again. She's crazy! But I still love her," she added quietly.  
  
"You still have them," said Harry. "And that's something."  
  
Normally, saying that would have made him feel sad but for some reason or another, it strangely made him feel stronger. Cho laughed nervously as if just realizing who she'd been talking to.  
  
"Don't hate them," Harry said, rubbing her shoulder. "If you lose them, you're going to miss them." His actions, he realized, were very unlike his normal self. He was feeling something he couldn't explain but it felt oddly like what one might call "connecting," feeling something, something edging him on to make Cho happier.  
  
"Come on," he added, "are you hungry? Thirsty? I'll pay." Harry noticed that the nervousness he was experiencing at first was completely gone and was replaced by a kind of purpose.  
  
The two of them got hamburgers, sprinkled with pixie dust, and two goblets of warming butterbeer.  
  
"I - I shouldn't have mentioned any of that to you," said Cho.  
  
"It's okay," said Harry, "really." He laughed nervously and looked down at his burger, thinking of what he was going to say. "I - I made a promise to Sirius that I would tell anyone who would listen anything that was bothering me. It's caused me enough trouble not telling so I figured the opposite ought to help." Harry smiled and took a big bite out of his food.  
  
"You must really miss him."  
  
"You have - no - idea," said Harry heavily.  
  
"S-sorry," said Cho quickly.  
  
Harry did nothing more than take a deep breath. This outing did not look like it was going very well and that was all he could think of as the two quickly and quietly finished their food.  
  
It was noticeably cooler when they left their table by the fire and Madam Rosmerta bid them a good evening. As they exited the Three Broomsticks, Cho gave a shiver.  
  
"D'you want my cloak?" asked Harry. He stopped walking.  
  
"You'll be freezing!"  
  
"You're cold," Harry insisted. "You take it." He took it off without giving Cho a chance to say no and put it around her. She gripped it and Harry proceeded to put his hands in his pockets to prepare for the pending coldness that would set in eventually. Strangely, Harry immediately felt very cold very fast. He felt like he had stepped into an ice box.  
  
"Wow!" said Cho.  
  
"What?" Harry asked.  
  
"This has a Warmth Charm on it," she said.  
  
"A what?"  
  
Cho giggled and Harry turned red. His lack of knowledge of things in the Wizarding World, as less as it gets each year, still showed occasionaly.  
  
"Keeps you as warm or cool as you like. Where'd you get this?"  
  
The redness in Harry's face was replaced by a big smile. He started to walk slowly down High Street and Cho followed right as his side.  
  
"My dad left it for me," said Harry. He looked sideways at Cho, who raised an eyebrow, then looked straight again. "Remember when they came out of the Mirror of Erised last year? He left me a going-away present. Sirius said my mom bought it for him on their first year anniversary."  
  
Harry felt the familiar warm feeling enter him again despite the fact that he was now very cold. Cho then did something that Harry liked but at the same time gave him goose bumps: she grabbed his hand and held it. His heart started to beat faster; this was all very new to him but that wasn't to say that he didn't enjoy it. They continued to walk lazily down the street towards no place in particular.  
  
"So what's been bothering you lately?" said Cho, grinning.  
  
A few thoughts about Professor Trelawney and Sirius came to Harry right away but what was really nagging him was Snape.  
  
"Snape," said Harry, struggling to make his words sound neutral. "Did you hear what he said to me recently?"  
  
"No," said Cho, very interested, "what happened?"  
  
"He made a crack about my dad and said he deserved what he got." Cho clasped a hand to her mouth in horror. "If he says anything else my mom or dad -- either of them -- I'm going to break more than his nose." He had trouble hiding the threatening tone.  
  
"What DOES that excuse for a Professor have against you?"  
  
Harry tutted softly and said innocently, "He'll never forgive my dad."  
  
"Why? What'd he do?"  
  
"He saved Snape's life," Harry chuckled. "Remeber Professor Lupin? He was a werewolf? Well him, my dad, Sirius and Peter Pettigrew -- his nickname was Wormtail," he added nastily, "-- were all Animagi. Lupin was to transform to a werewolf in the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade where he couldn't hurt anyone. All those noises, they were just Lupin. My dad, Sirius and Pettigrew learned to become Animagi to keep Lupin company. Lupin wouldn't attack them as animals, only as humans.  
  
"For some reason, Snape had always wanted to get them all expelled and he especially hated my dad. Sirius suggested it was because he was jealous how good my dad was at Quidditch. Anyway, Sirius told Snape how to get inside the Shrieking Shack. You had to press a knot on the Whomping Willow's trunk and then you could slip inside and climb through a tunnel. If my dad didn't stop Snape, he would have met Lupin as a werewolf and Snape probably would've died. Snape thinks my dad was in on the joke and just got cold feet.  
  
"It's kinda stupid, really. Snape's holding a childhood grudge against my dad against me."  
  
He enjoyed sharing the story and when he finished, they both laughed at Snape's expense. Harry then blurted something out he really wanted to say, whether Cho wanted to hear it or not.  
  
"Listen," he said sincerely as they stopped walking in front of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. "About your mom and dad -"  
  
"No," said Cho quickly, letting go of his hand, "don't -"  
  
"I have to say this," Harry insisted. He put his hand back in his pocket and another cold breeze made him shiver. Cho sighed but he was going to make her listen. His mind started to go again without him thinking.  
  
"They're your parents and you shouldn't hate them. I mean, your mom and dad were in love before your dad lost his mind, right? Voldemort" -- and Cho flinched at the name -- "destroyed so many lives... I'm -" Harry was saying, but it became harder to continue and he fought back tears recalling, as he had so many times, what happened to his family. "I'm not... not letting him ruin any more..."  
  
Cho stared. Harry didn't know what kind of effect his words would have on her but the next moment she threw her arms around him. He didn't want Cho feeling sorry for him and he would never hear her telling him why she did it, at least that night.  
  
They started to walk all the way back to Hogwarts, hand in hand, stopping occasionally just because they felt like it, talking about everything from how much everyone disliked Snape and Hagrid's far more interesting selection of magical creatures this year. On Cho's request, they headed for the lake because she liked how the moonlight sparkled in it. When they reached the edge of the lake, they stopped to talk about what they might do when they graduate Hogwarts.  
  
"I'm not spending seven years here to end up a shopkeeper on Knockturn Alley," said Cho decisively.  
  
"Did your mom do anything else?" Harry asked.  
  
"She was thinking of working here. Wanted to be the Potions teacher. Snape looked like he might not get the position but Dumbledore trusted him. Unfortunately, Snape's better at it than my mom so he got it. I can't really hate him for that, though. The most qualified person got the job..."  
  
"I don't know what I want to do," Harry said dreamily.  
  
"What did your parents do?"  
  
"They were both Aurors but I've had enough chasing Dark wizards."  
  
Cho giggled playfully.  
  
"None but the best of us become Aurors," said Cho. "You know, I don't know if anyone told you, but -"  
  
She stopped walking and made Harry face her. He noticed that she was not just looking at him, she was looking into his eyes, inside of him, and this made him nervous again.  
  
"As far back as anyone could remember," she said, "every Potter has been a great witch or wizard. None on the likes of Albus Dumbledore or You-Know-Who since Godric Gryffindor but they were really good at it."  
  
Indeed, no one had ever told him. Harry felt the heat rising in his face. Where was this going? And he couldn't help but notice how much better Cho looked up close.  
  
Cho grabbed Harry's other hand, now holding both, and said, "You're a great wizard, you know."  
  
This had the effect of making Harry laugh nervously and remember something Hermione said five years ago. He looked down for a moment then back up at Cho.  
  
"Hermione said exactly that to me before I ran off to stop Professor Quirrel from getting the Philosopher's Stone. I... didn't believe her at the time but... now that I found out that I'm a " -- and he laughed shortly and nervously again -- "descendant of Gryffindor, conjured a Patronus that saved four people from about one hundred dementors and all that other stuff, I can't not believe it."  
  
"It's true," said Cho.  
  
Harry looked down at his watch nervously. It was ten o'clock.  
  
"It's late. We better get back and hope we don't get seen or we're definitely getting detention," Harry chortled.  
  
Cho nodded and said, "Hey, can I just see your necklace?  
  
Harry had the feeling Cho wanted to extend their time together. Not that he objected... it was just that the butterflies in his stomach were growing.  
  
"Sure," he said as he pulled it off his neck.  
  
He grabbed the plaque tightly in his hand and noticed that, like once before, it had no effect on him. Harry dropped it in Cho's hand and she sort of gauked at it.  
  
"It's really pretty," she said while looking at the plaque. Harry watched as her lips formed the words Harry James Potter. Cho looked up at him awkwardly and said, "Were you nervous when Mr. Fudge called your name?"  
  
"Nervous!" Harry shouted and he laughed heartily. "I was more than nervous. I was so stiff Ron and Hermione had to literally pull me out of my seat. I would've fainted if I wasn't already resting my head. But really, would they have given it to anyone else?" he added, grinning broadly.  
  
"Oh, you!" said Cho. She gave him back the necklace and she pushed him playfully. It was a bit harder than she intended. Harry lost his footing. He slipped and fell. The lake was right behind him...  
  
Cho gave a short shriek and went red. She didn't mean to do that.  
  
"Harry!" she shouted.  
  
There was not an air bubble, no sign of black, untidy hair or at the very least a finger anywhere in the lake. She bit her lip and walked towards the edge.  
  
"Harry!" she shouted louder. Cho's eyes grazed the top of the water. There was still no sign of him. She towered over the lake looking all over. Still, there was nothing. He hadn't drowned, had he... !  
  
Then she turned to look at something like a spider that was floating near the surface. Except it wasn't a spider, it was Harry's hair.  
  
When his head emerged from under the water, he wasn't angry, he was laughing. Cho looked relieved. Harry pushed his sopping hair out of his face and gave a shiver. It was considerably colder in the lake than it was out of it.  
  
"Harry, I'm sorry!" said Cho loudly.  
  
"You aren't sorry yet!" Harry shouted as he pulled her foot. There was no avoiding it -- Cho screamed, she flailed her arms and tried to balance her herself, but she, too, slipped and fell into the lake.  
  
When Cho's head emerged, she was angry but the look faded as they waded in the water and stared at each other. Cho started to only hope Harry's dad's cloak wasn't ruined. Harry hoped the water proof charm on his watch was working properly. The butterflies in his stomach seemed to be disappearing.  
  
A cold draft tried to ruffle Harry's wet hair. It didn't make him feel cold. Then a sudden different feeling came over both of them as they stared, soaked to the skin and freezing, at each other.  
  
Harry pushed the hair out of Cho's face.  
  
Her lip trembled not unlike Hermione's once did. And then she did it again. Cho wrapped her arms around Harry and held him tight, splashing water. Cold and shivering, Harry slowly put his own arms around Cho and it felt strangely satisfying. His eyes closed on their own and his face curled into a smile without him noticing. Gone from his mind was the care about how he was going to have to explain how it looked like Cho and him went for a dip in the lake to the first person they saw when they arrived at the castle.  
  
This wasn't a hug from sorrow, this was a hug because Cho cared about him. This hug was much different from Mrs. Weasley. Strangest of all, it was also different from the hug his very own mother and father had given him a year ago (even if they were just temporary shadows of their former selves). He loved his parents and yet... Why did this feel so different?  
  
It felt comforting but made Harry feel uneasy at the same time. Never did he have a feeling he couldn't explain when someone held him. Was this... affection? All of his shivers ebbed away in Cho's warmth and Harry was left with a peaceful feeling. His weightlessness in the water increased these new, unsettling feelings.  
  
Then he did something he couldn't explain. He didn't think before he did it but he was glad she didn't object. Harry's lips met Cho's. Once before had this happened: they had found themselves in the view of Dumbledore while standing under mistletoe.  
  
The kiss was on accident and it was still an awkward moment but there was something different about this one, something he liked and he couldn't pinpoint it. The moment was perfect and only something he could have dreamed of. Cool, night air made the scene on the bright, green grass and sparkling, blue water picture perfect. They both would agree that the only problem was what would Filch say if he caught them traipsing around the castle with muddy shoes.  
  
As they climbed out of the lake, mud collecting on the bottom of their shoes, neither of them wanted to say what they were feeling and they were both okay with that, especially Harry. There was a feeling he wasn't ready to admit to just yet.  
  
They went back to holding hands and continued walking, shoulder to shoulder (it was Cho's idea -- "You're cold!"), silently towards the castle. Harry's watched still worked, his dad's cloak still kept Cho warm and he still refused to take it back, saying that he would survive without it.  
  
At one point, Harry turned to look at Cho, who smiled back at him. He smiled too, very content with himself for yet another time in his life.  
  
The two arrived at the entrance just before eleven o'clock. Cho wrung as much water out of her hair as she could just outside and Harry simply squeezed his as hard as he could and shook it. Cho wrung the water out of her cloak and Harry's dad's.  
  
When they got into the entrance hall, standing there was none other than Professor Dumbledore, who looked to be waiting for them. Both Harry and Cho turned a very deep red. It was bad enough they were out late at night but the fact that they were both soaking wet made them look even more guilty.  
  
"Good evening!" said Dumbledore, eyes sparkling bright as ever beneath the half-moon spectacles. "I daresay you two had a good time in Hogsmeade?"  
  
Harry and Cho quickly let go of the each others hand. Cho gave Harry his dad's cloak back, said good night to him and Dumbledore and set off hurriedly towards the Ravenclaw common room. Harry tried to escape as well but Dumbledore put a hand on his shoulder. Was he going to be in trouble?  
  
"I will not ask and you do not have to tell," Dumbledore added, now grinning broadly, feeling how wet Harry's robes are. "You ought to put that cloak on and change as soon as possible. You're freezing."  
  
With no objections to leaving, Harry put his dad's cloak on (immediately feeling warmer) and set off quickly towards Gryffindor Tower. Most everyone was still in the common room and none looked surprised to see Harry stride in later than anyone. Rather, they were surprised to see him soaking wet and shivering when he removed the cloak. Like pack rats to food, Ron and Hermione immediately cornered him.  
  
"Harry!" Hermione shrieked.  
  
"We had a very good time," said Harry, grinning broadly himself, "and that's all I'm telling you. Oh and I found out this cloak has a Warmth Charm on it," he added, taking it off his back and holding it up.  
  
"What, did you fall in the lake?" Ron asked sarcastically.  
  
Harry's grin widened at Ron and Ron gaped at him in a gleeful sort of shock. Harry climbed the spiral stairs, heading to the dormitory and set his bag down from Gladrag's by his bed.  
  
It wasn't until Harry stared at the roof of his four-post bed that night did he realize that what he said to Cho when she was upset was from the heart. His words were true and they comforted not only her, but himself as well. The only problem was that he lost his parents before he even knew them and he missed them a great deal...  
  
He figured that Dumbledore knew he might stay out late with Cho and that Hermione was right after all. It was a very good idea for him to have a night alone with Cho. Now of course, all he had to worry about was how fast it would spread around the school and when, not if, it would make it into the Daily Prophet. Those were both very minor concerns. It looked like Harry would soon have someone else to confide in. Even though she wasn't a grown-up wizard who knew his parents, wasn't their best friend and had no experience with Dark magic, Cho, in one night, had become more than a friend. 


	13. Pettigrew's Plea

Chapter 13: PETTIGREW'S PLEA  
  
Sunday morning, Harry entered the Great Hall amongst lots of fellow Gryffindors wanting to ask him questions.  
  
"Where'd you go?"  
  
"What'd you do?"  
  
"How come you got to stay out so late and didn't get punished? No fair!"  
  
"How come you both came back sopping wet, huh, Harry?"  
  
"Potter's got a girlfriend!"  
  
As much as his instinct wanted him to deny this last sneer, the reality was, it was true. Still grinning like he was last night, Harry sat down between Ron and Hermione.  
  
"You're awfully happy this morning," said Hermione with an air of superiority. "So was it a good idea after all?"  
  
"It was a great idea," said Harry cheerfully as he snatched a bagel, cut it in half and buttered it.  
  
"So?" asked Ron. "What's she like?"  
  
"Until you tell me anything about Fleur I'm not telling you anything about Cho," said Harry sharply.  
  
Ron frowned. It didn't look like he was going to spill anything on Fleur.  
  
Harry found some peace and quiet during his classes that morning. It wasn't until Hermione got a little bit edgy with her frequent I-told-you-so's did Harry start to get a little upset.  
  
Ron kept telling Harry that she'll stop eventually but Hermione did it all through Defense Against the Dark Arts while they were reading more of Harry Potter: Lucky or Legendary. She continued to say it all through Paladism where Dumbledore showed everyone how to mend cuts with potions they had made previously in class. Hermione's "I told you so" speech pinnacled during lunch that afternoon.  
  
"I told you so," said Hermione for the thousandth time.  
  
"I'm starting to get sick of hearing that," said a now-annoyed Harry.  
  
"Well if you had such a good time with her -- I mean, you were nervous at first, right?"  
  
"You might say that."  
  
"But look at you now! Happy as could be. Should've gone sooner, that's all."  
  
"Yes and I'm quite sick of hearing it, Hermione," said Harry sharply.  
  
"Fine," Hermione snapped. "You obviously don't appreciate my efforts." And she started towards the Great Hall. Harry tutted loudly.  
  
"Hermione -" Ron called after her, but -  
  
"Leave her alone," said Harry. "She's been so annoying all morning. She needs to know how it feels."  
  
"I don't get it, why'd she get so upset?"  
  
Harry shrugged. Hermione exited the Great Hall as Ron looked uncertainly after her.  
  
Ron and Harry were going to return to eating normally but just moments after she was out of sight, she returned, panting. Every head turned as Hermione came storming back in, stopping midway between the entrance and the staff table, screaming at the top of her lungs.  
  
"PETER PETTIGREW!" she thundered.  
  
The room went deadly quiet and Professor Dumbledore abruptly stopped his conversation with Professor McGonagall to stand up and look at her.  
  
"JUST RAN INTO HIM!"  
  
Before anyone else had a chance to say or do anything, the dormant hatred Harry had for Pettigrew, otherwise known as Wormtail to his friends at Hogwarts and among those friends, Harry's dad, was awakened. Fireworks were going off in the pit of Harry's stomach. How dearly would he like to have Wormtail quivering at his feet, his wand pointed at Wormtail's balding head...  
  
Ron didn't have time to stop him. Harry leapt out of his seat, grabbed Hermione's arm and dashed out of the Great Hall. If Wormtail had the guts to slip out from underneath Harry's fingers and yet more guts to turn up at Hogwarts, then he wouldn't mind seeing Harry face to face when Harry only had one thing on his mind: to kill.  
  
"What do you plan on doing?" Hermione asked him anxiously as Harry lead her through the entrance hall, looking every which way.  
  
"What the hell do you think I'm going to do when I get my hands on him?" Harry said hotly. "Where'd you see him?"  
  
"Heading upstairs. Harry, what are you -"  
  
She didn't get to finish. Harry let go of her arm and hurried up the marble staircase towards the next floor.  
  
Very quickly, Harry realized this was next to useless. Hogwarts was huge and Wormtail could be anywhere. Harry searched the second floor as fast as he could and hurried up towards the next floor... It took several minutes to search the entire floor, trying to remember all the passages and trying not to forget whether he'd been down that path or not. He ran towards the stairs then towards the next floor... then the next... and the next...  
  
As he rounded the stairs to the sixth floor he saw a rat bounding down the corridor.  
  
"WORMTAIL!" he roared and dashed as fast as he could, which -- and he didn't take notice to -- had him across a very long corridor in a very short amount of time.  
  
Harry seized the tail of the rat, assured it was the one he wanted because it had a silver paw on the same side that it used to have a toe missing. It was a magical hand Voldemort had given Wormtail for having to cut off his own two years ago. Wormtail dangled in front of Harry, swinging back and forth madly, practically all of it's fur missing.  
  
And now, Harry wanted the rat to turn into a man. Sirius and Lupin knew a way to force Wormtail to transform but they hadn't made an incantation and Harry had only seen a flash of blue-white light with Wormtail hanging in midair. None of that was any help.  
  
He pulled his wand out from his robes and stupidly pointed it at the rat dangling in his other hand. All he wanted was to turn the rat into a man and he had absolutely no idea how. Maybe if he really, really wanted it to happen?  
  
"C'mon," he muttered, "do something!"  
  
He waved his wand, feeling very stupid and glad Hermione couldn't see him. Nothing happened but Harry continued jiggling it. At one point, he grunted.  
  
And then it happened.  
  
Inexplicably, miraculously, unbelievably a burst of blue-white light shot out of his wand at the rat. Heart thumping, Harry let go, Wormtail hanging in midair, and watched the slow motion transformation of Wormtail from a rat to a full grown -- or at least full grown for his size -- man.  
  
"You!" Harry breathed.  
  
The short, bald and pathetic figure of Wormtail quivered on the spot, crumpled up on the floor.  
  
"No!" he cried, trying to shout but it came out as a mere whisper. "P-please! D-don't hurt m-me!" His eyes didn't meet Harry's and, in fact, he didn't look Harry in the face.  
  
But, don't hurt him? Is he crazy?  
  
"WHAT?" Harry roared, gaping open-mouth with a look of shock on his face that was beyond disbelief. It was painful to hear Wormtail ask not to be hurt. "DON'T HURT YOU?"  
  
"Y-you -- h-hear me out!" cried Wormtail.  
  
Harry dropped his wand as well as his disbelief (exchanging it for wanting Wormtail dead again) and said, more like a statement then a question, "Why."  
  
"Because -"  
  
"Harry!" shrieked a voice from behind him.  
  
Harry wheeled around to see Professors Dumbledore, Snape and McGonagall charging down the corridor. Harry's frame covered Wormtail, but when they caught sight of him, Professor McGonagall shrieked, clasping a hand to her heart; Snape abruptly stopped moving and Dumbledore just slowed to a stop.  
  
"Pettigrew!" McGonagall shrieked again. "What - what is he doing here?"  
  
"I'd like to know that myself," said Harry hotly, rounding on Wormtail again, who continued to avoid looking at Harry like he was some sort of wizard far more fearsome than Voldemort... or was it because he was hiding something and he thought Harry might figure it out? He had figured things out before...  
  
Snape looked far too angry for words, an attitude that, for once, mirrored Harry's (and about the same person, too). Dumbledore had his ears tuned to Wormtail.  
  
"I ran," Wormtail said through heavy breath, looking at Dumbledore, still whimpering, still crumpled up on the floor and still looking pathetic, "escaped... from the Dark Lord. P-planning t-to come back!"  
  
"HE'S LYING!" Harry roared, the look that was beyond disbelief now back on his face. "WHY WOULD HE RUN?"  
  
"You have to believe me!" cried Wormtail who now rounded on Professor McGonagall.  
  
Harry pointed his wand at Wormtail threateningly and simply said, "Why'd you run from Voldemort -- what, still shiver at his name?"  
  
Harry bent down and whispered the name in Wormtail's ear, to which Wormtail then covered his head with his stubby arms. Harry grinned and stood straight again. Normally, Harry was not mean but there was no helping himself with Wormtail in his presence, a person that had willingly changed his life for the worse.  
  
Wormtail sniffed. "My Lord is planning to steal something!"  
  
"What?" Harry began coldly. "What does he want? No," he then said, stopping Wormtail from changing the subject. "Nevermind. You ran for it when Lupin turned into a werewolf! I'm gonna do what I didn't get to do last time!"  
  
"Harry, calm yourself," said Dumbledore as he put a hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry shrugged him off.  
  
"This piece of vermin is the reason I have no parents! I gave Sirius and Lupin permission to kill him if he ran and HE - DID!" Harry's wand hand was trembling.  
  
"And killing him will do nothing if he's not lying -"  
  
"BUT - HE - IS!"  
  
Gone from Harry's mind was the night with Cho and all he wanted was revenge -- sweet, delicious revenge.  
  
"You will go back to your dormitory," Dumbledore said sharply. There was no point in arguing.  
  
"Fine," said Harry, not taking his eyes off Wormtail and stuffing his wand back in his pocket. "But he's still lying."  
  
Harry made an about face and walked away, fists clenched and denied, from the scene, taking many backward glances at Wormtail who still refused to look Harry in the face. He was hiding something. Why wouldn't he be able to look Harry in the face? Harry knew; Wormtail's guilt would show.  
  
When Harry arrived at the Fat Lady's portrait, she asked him why he was running so fast. Harry told her he saw a stray rat that needed to be killed. When she admitted him into the common room, the questions flying at him were totally indistinguishable. The first question that he caught in it's entirety was -  
  
"What's he doing at Hogwarts?" Hermione shuffled over.  
  
"I don't know," Harry began, "He's an Animagus, you know. Tried to hide by turning into a rat. Dumbledore wouldn't let me kill him... shame," he added without any pity. Harry noticed his wand hand was still shaking and grabbed it with the other hand to curb the shakiness. "Voldemort" -- to which everyone that could hear him flinched -- "wants something. Wormtail says he ran. I don't believe him and I don't want to talk about it," he said flatly.  
  
There was no taking Harry's mind off the simple but important fact that he was an inch away from killing Wormtail, either by magic or by elbow grease, for the rest of the day. The next day at breakfast, Professor Dumbledore called Harry aside as he tried to leave the Great Hall for his first class: Potions.  
  
"I ask that you stay out of trouble this year, that you leave your Invisibility Cloak at the bottom of your trunk and that you not wander the school after hours, among others things, or I am afraid I will have to" -- and he hesitated for a tense moment before continuing -- "insist on greater punishments than detention."  
  
Harry had the sick feeling that this meant getting expelled. He had the same sick feeling that he was going to be expelled twice before and once it had actually come true last year. Never, ever did he want that again.  
  
Harry had become more than frightened, more than sickened and more than beaten up with the gross reality that he would have to live as a Muggle, forever banished from the wizarding world. Fortunately, it was due to his own safety and the expulsion was only temporary. He more than gratefully accepted the fact that Dumbledore was acting out of Harry's best interest during the month absence from Hogwarts.  
  
Okay, Harry thought, possibly he could manage it -- or rather, he better. But again, time and time again, had his honest to goodness willingness to stay out of trouble been put to a test and thoroughly shattered by unforgiving circumstances. Harry grudingly accepted the fact, however much he reminded Dumbledore that he thought Wormtail a liar, that Dumbledore had full trust. For once in his life did Harry think Dumbledore wrong and it came as no surprise to him that Ron and Hermione agreed.  
  
"Out of his mind. What is he thinking?"  
  
"He's just trusting him with nothing to go on?"  
  
It just seemed a bit odd that, in all his efforts to stymie Voldemort, all his precautions and all the protections, that Dumbledore trusted Wormtail. Dumbledore himself had been hoodwinked two years ago. The Triwizard Cup had been a Portkey and it had transported Harry and Cedric right into Voldemort's hands and Voldemort had risen to power again. Needless to say, Harry thought Dumbledore mad to trust Wormtail and rightly so after one particular incident that very same day. Unfortunately, his word to Dumbledore was also tested that very same day.  
  
Harry had seen Wormtail several times that morning before breakfast which was strange in itself as he only had two classes. Wormtail seemed to trod up and down the corridors and reappear at the very next one Harry was to go down to. At the fifth time before heading off to Divination, he had to ask something.  
  
"You're not following me, are you?" he asked casually. Wormtail turned to look at who spoke to him but quickly turned his head away at the sight of Harry.  
  
"No, w-why would you think that?" he squeaked.  
  
Harry shot the back of Wormtail's head a nasty looked and climbed the ladder into Professor Trelaweny's hot and musty classroom. He made a mental note to express his great anger at Dumbledore for trusting Wormtail in the slightest while listening to a boring speech on how to interpret dreams to which he paid no attention -- his were always cut and dry.  
  
"Dumbledore's off his rocker," said Ron later that night in the Gryffindor commons.  
  
They all nodded in agreement, along with the rest of the Gryffindors, as they all felt exactly the same on the subject. There wasn't much to be said. It only took a few days' time for the entire school to be untrustworthy of Wormtail.  
  
In other matters, the Gryffindor team's first Quidditch practice of the season was especially excellent due to Harry's determination in continually using Mr. Weasley's advice of simply putting it out of his mind -- Harry caught the Golden Snitch every other minute. None to his own surprise, for that matter, as he had finally learned to control the immense speed of his faithful Dragonback. Flying at speeds close to three hundred miles per hour when he wanted to was no longer a terrifying experience.  
  
Just as he once saw Viktor Krum flying through the air on his own Firebolt as if it was a natural extension of his body, so did Harry feel like the Dragonback was a part of him. His hands controlled his direction and leaning was his speed control -- and it all came as easy as moving his head, moving it away from the direction of the Potions master if need be...  
  
Professor Snape had kept his low tone with Harry ever since Harry had made it sound like he was going to break every bone in Snape's body. Just as Snape had once said he would do, he sure did teach them how to bottle fame, brew glory and stopper death. Harry bottled Snape's fame and brewed his own glory but Hermione stoppered him from killing Snape.  
  
During the next several weeks of October, Snape had taken to simply bullying Neville and leaving Harry, Ron and Hermione alone. One quick glance from Harry to Snape put a stopper on Snape's bullying of Neville, too.  
  
"Oh, thank you!" Neville cried after class to Harry in the corridor.  
  
"Yeah, don't mention it," said Harry dully.  
  
On the same token, Harry's former rival, Draco Malfoy, had kept his mouth shut in Harry's presence. It's not every day you get spared of the pain and agony of having a sword cut through your chest by someone you really don't like. Of course, Harry, in reflection, wished some amount of real pain onto Malfoy.  
  
Harry himself had had all the bones in one arm removed and painfully regrown in one night, A few months later, he found a one foot long venomous fang stuck in the same arm, fell fifty feet from an airborn broomstick and had a deep gash in his arm coupled with a broken leg and intense pain in the ominous lightning shaped scar on his forehead. That is, of course, not mentioning the time he had been cut in both ankles, both wrists and the neck, to withdraw blood from; been impaled and had a leg bitten off by an extremely large snake. Indeed, Harry knew what pain felt like but there was the time Harry thrusted a needle through Malfoy's arm causing him to pass out... that was fun...  
  
October would have finished without incident if it wasn't for a flare-up in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Delacour had been reading a passage from her book, Harry Potter: Lucky or Legendary, that Harry didn't particularly feel like hearing. He was far more red in the face than he had been in recent classes. This current section of the book, she reminded the class, was a study of Harry's traits and continually labeled him under the "Legendary" category.  
  
"'So how then does one endure such hardships year after year, month after month? Some have argued that Mr. Potter, while enduring great lows, also cheers through great highs and this is a driving force. But while many think along these lines, perhaps one should take a Time Turner to his early childhood.'"  
  
Harry found himself taking deep, steadying breaths and repeated slowly to himself "It's just a class, they're trying to figure out what your scar is," while gripping the Order of Merlin plaque tightly. Professor Delacour continued unabated.  
  
"'Mr. Potter, having not had much acceptance from his aunt and uncle, was conditioned through childhood to take hardships, endure them and come out with something positive. Some say this is an impossible line of thought, that a child, any child, would end up being sent to a Psychologist.'"  
  
"'While the mindset one must take on to endure such a thing for ten years can be argued to be the result of conditioning, some rebel Psychologists ensure that having never known a caring family, one -'"  
  
"Do you have any idea how embarassing this is?" Harry blurted out, eyes closed, not caring that he was staring up at the ceiling, one hand on the plaque, one hand situating his hair so that his scar was easily viewable.  
  
Ron and Hermione sympathized but Professor Delacour offered no pity -- she took five points from Gryffindor for talking while she was speaking. She proceeded to take another five points when Harry called her something nasty. He suspected he might have gotten detention but she knew better -- Harry made sure that she could see the look on his face.  
  
Hermione assured him that they would end up getting fifty or more points by the year's end for something they do. He threw a flurry of explicatives at her but she wasn't mad, she felt she deserved it in the end.  
  
The first Quidditch game of the season came, the first Quidditch game of the season went. Gryffindor crushed Slytherin, naturally, and Harry saw fit to make it a point to celebrate with Cho on their next Hogsmeade visit. Harry began to wish Cho would come eat at the Gryffindor table -- as they had been spending lots of time talking in the corridors -- but Hermione reminded him that "she has friends, too." Harry gave her a look of deepest loathing and bit off the end of his sausage. He didn't admit it, but if someone payed any attention, they would notice that he and Cho were becoming quite close.  
  
Of course, Harry wasn't untroubled. There was still the matter of James Griffith and James Potter and Harry seeing the latter when hearing the first name of the former. For several nights, though thankfully uncommon, did Harry find himself battling to get the image of his dad out of his head before falling asleep.  
  
Wormtail became an annoying dust ball in the back of Harry's head while Cho and him went on their hand in hand walk to the Great Hall after every torturous Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Quickly, Cho's hand became a substitute for the Order of Merlin plaque when she was around.  
  
Cho continued to pour a satisfying feeling into Harry's heart and a contentedness in his stomach that, no matter how brightly he smiled or how much spring there was in his step, it was insatiable. It was a feeling that he wished he could have experienced long ago but like he annoyingly kept reminding himself, his parents probably would have provided that. He wallowed in it, taking in every moment and felt slightly dejected each time Cho hugged him good bye and went towards the Ravenclaw table. She was no longer just more than a friend -- she was a release of pent up emotions.  
  
But she wasn't a thing to make Harry feel better, she was a person he could talk to like he could talk to... Sirius. Sirius -- that was another painful thought that continued to stab at the back of his head night after night. Something, anything had to take his mind off the wretched feeling that Wormtail was going to do something bad if he couldn't, at least, stop thinking about Sirius. One senseless visit reminded Harry that Sirius was still white-faced, still looking dead.  
  
Hermione quickly took notice of another problem, but small, that Harry would soon have on his hands. She merely mentioned it ("Harry, you ought to watch Ginny when she's around and you're with Cho"). It didn't come of any significance until Harry invited Cho to watch one of their Quidditch practices. Harry bit his lip. Ron thought it hilarious. Hermione wasn't taking sides. 


	14. Four Way Fight

Chapter 14: FOUR-WAY FIGHT  
  
"I think she's jealous!" Ron shouted, making sure Ginny could hear as he strode onto the field, late, with Harry and Hermione.  
  
Not wanting to find out what kind of arguements two girls who fancied him could get into, Harry quickly kicked off from the ground and enjoyed the wind whipping his hair instead of the thought whipping his nerves. Ginny didn't have any objections.  
  
She mounted her broom, a Nimbus 2000 Fred and George had bought as a birthday present by selling their old brooms and pitching in some profits from their shop. A bit dated (five years) but it provided better handling and speed than a Cleansweep Seven. Ginny shot Cho a dirty look when Harry wasn't watching and then kicked off into the air. One could not help but notice that Ginny, who had been wanting Harry to like her since they first met, was becoming slightly... how to say... irrational.  
  
On many occasions did Harry find her in his way while flying around. He didn't take notice that she did this on purpose and in fact took no notice of what she was doing until they had an accident involving a Bludger, the Quaffle and the Golden Snitch...  
  
"Another month or two and we're gonna have to pit you three against our old Chasers!" Ron shouted encouragingly at Ginny, James and Connie. "Great work there, James!"  
  
Harry continually pictured his father the first time he heard James Griffith's first name each day. He was becoming quite sick of it (or was he?). A quick rise into the air, out of sight and a quick few-second hold of the Order of Merlin plaque and he could get back to looking for the Snitch.  
  
"Ginny, heads up!"  
  
Ginny shrieked. Harry wasn't watching, but from the sound of it, she had a Bludger on her tail but just then, down at the base of one of the giant hoops, was the Snitch.  
  
Harry dived straight towards it, hearing Ginny shriek again, a dull look in his eye. Chasing the Snitch without someone tailing him, or rather, the Snitch not having sharp blades on it and no red-hot Bludgers, was much too easy.  
  
Ron's clapping assured Harry that Ginny had scored just as he was an inch away from the Snitch, but at the same instant -  
  
CRASH.  
  
Someone plunged sidelong into him just as he was a few feet from the ground. Not having seen it coming, his grip on the Dragonback was lost and he -- and Ginny, he saw, having turned to see who -- tumbled as a single, tangled mess onto the grass. They rolled a few feet before coming to a stop and it was a most embarassing situation. Everyone came running over and Cho sprang to her feet to make sure they were both okay as well.  
  
Harry, back against the grass, looked her in the eye and said simply and quickly, "Ginny, get off me."  
  
She was sprawled on top of him, her chin digging into Harry's upper ribs. Ginny got to her feet like there was nothing wrong and when Harry got up, he glanced at Cho just to make sure she felt the same as Ginny. She, thankfully, didn't have any out of the ordinary look on her face.  
  
Maybe it was just in his head, maybe it was nothing to think about. Both Cho and Ginny, along with everyone else, weren't fussing over it. After all, it was just an accident and only by chance did Ginny land on top of Harry.  
  
He knew, of course, it wasn't that simple. Indeed, he got a flurry of words from Cho as they headed, alone, towards the Great Hall for breakfast.  
  
"That girl just won't leave you alone will she?" Cho asked exasperatedly.  
  
"She Ron's sister," Harry replied, slightly upset at Cho's apparent jealousy.  
  
"I know who she is," Cho said sharply, not taking her eyes off the side of Harry's head.  
  
"Why are you so upset?" Harry said. "Are you jealous?"  
  
"Jealous?" Cho repeated blankly. "Of - of course not!"  
  
"Then stop acting it, all right?"  
  
"I'm not acting it."  
  
"Yes you are."  
  
"No I'm not."  
  
"Yes... you are."  
  
"No... I'm not."  
  
"Stop saying that because I know you are."  
  
"Saying what?"  
  
"Look," said Harry, having quite a bit enough of it. He stopped walking, still not looking at Cho. Harry sighed, his shoulders dropping, and held his broom vertically. His hands loosened, letting off some steam and he almost dropped it. "Ginny's liked me ever since we first met. I thought her cheeks were going to slide off she was crying so much when I pulled her out of the Chamber of Secrets," he said sarcastically. Harry turned to look at Cho. She still wore that stern look. "But we're just friends, okay? Just friends..." He curled his face into a shape he hoped looked cute and innocent and added, grinning, "Do you still hate me?"  
  
"No, I... can't hate you just yet," she replied, her face curling into a smile as well, to Harry's great relief.  
  
"Good, now can we go eat? I've been up since four-thirty and my Dragonback is starting to look tasty."  
  
They started to walk again and within a few seconds, Cho's hand reached Harry's. All seemed well again... until Ginny got her words in.  
  
"Why don't you like me!" she shouted. It was a very blatant question to say the least and it had the very effect Ginny wished: Harry was again lost for words to respond.  
  
"Ginny, what kind of question is that?" Ron said, unnerved, turning to Ginny. There was an awkward silence in which Harry managed to find his voice.  
  
"What d'you mean 'don't like you?'" he asked. "We talk, don't we? I don't run away screaming about basilisks when I see you, do I?"  
  
Harry knew perfectly well that was not what Ginny had in mind but... what else could he say? Perhaps he shouldn't have mentioned basilisks because Ginny's previous state of being that didn't involve watering at the eyes abruptly changed. He looked at Ron, looking for help but Ron didn't have any to offer. Hermione was just as non-helpful. Harry quickly formed a small speech in his head he hoped would offer Ginny some comfort.  
  
"Ginny," he said, sticking his index finger under her chin, pushing her head up and trying to look and sound sincere, "look at me. Cho... I mean, I'll talk to you whenever you want but... Cho, she - she means a lot to me. I'm -- er -- sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, but..."  
  
Ginny dropped her fork with a clang, sprang up from the Gryffindor table and stormed out of the Great Hall. There was a bit of clapping behind Harry and he turned to see Cho and a few of her friends wave at him. He looked at Ron, who merely held a neutral look. Harry was quite afraid Ron might be angry that he just sent his little sister running off crying.  
  
"Thanks, Ron," Harry said gratefully.  
  
"For what? I think she took it rather well!"  
  
"For not being mad at me."  
  
"Mad? Honestly, she's been talking so much about you ever since our second year during each summer, I don't care anymore. She once told me she's starting to like Neville. She'll get over it. Besides, what good will getting mad at you do. Pettigrew, remember?"  
  
Harry nodded weakly and went back to eating. Ron was right, he did have far more to worry about than Ginny but there was something he had been keeping from Ron and Hermione. This something had been bothering him every Quidditch practice and every Quidditch game and it was far too personal to mention. He hadn't told anyone what he sees when he hears James Griffith's name for the first time each day. That black hair, those glasses...  
  
Harry felt slightly guilty at the fact that he would picture James Potter at all when just hearing the name. Causing further guilt was his promise to Sirius about telling someone anything that was bothering him. How was he going to say it?  
  
Hello, James. I just wanted to tell you that every time I hear your name, I picture my dad. It's quite disturbing. Thank you. Good bye.  
  
No, he wanted to hit himself for having even thought of it. What would anyone think when he told them that? World War III went on inside his head with the East saying tell and the West saying don't tell. Currently wanting to just escape his problems, he sided with the west. And further adding to the guilt were all the personal things that were spilled during many Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. If he could withstand that, why couldn't he withstand telling anyone his latest personal thing?  
  
When he had been able to speak to his parents for a few short hours only a year ago, a powerful and uncontrollable urge to just let out his frustrations came out in the form of a cry. Staring up at the top of his four-post bed that Sunday night, dreading Defense Against the Dark Arts the next morning, that urge had come back in full. He fought it but only surpressed any noise and it took a full tissue to stop the waterworks. Wormtail, Dumbledore trusting him, Cho's jealousy, Ginny's impossible attitude and Voldemort threatening to gain power again was just too much.  
  
Clearly, he needed someone he could spill his heart out to. Many times before he had done that with Sirius, and Sirius let him talk uninterrupted until Harry had even said what the color of his excretions were. Someone else would have to take up the job, but who?  
  
He was being stupid. Dumbledore had had enough of his antics and it would take a lot of persuasion beside the fact to get Harry to talk to Dumbledore. Harry didn't hold Dumbledore in such high regards since Wormtail. Snape certainly wouldn't want to listen and Harry would be the laughing stock of the school for telling Malfoy, or anyone else outside of Ron and Hermione for that matter.  
  
Harry knew why he couldn't bring himself to spill his latest personal thing. It was because he was hanging on a few simple words Dumbledore had once said. "You will see them again when you are older." Except he was older... and he hadn't seem them yet.  
  
Harry flipped himself over and pulled the curtains back so he could gaze at the Order of Merlin plaque resting on his bedside table. He scrunched the tissue up, which looked like it had been held under a faucet and tossed it into his trash can. It didn't make him feel any better that, while staring at the necklace, he felt like reaching out to grab it.  
  
What was the harm? He felt rotten and certainly wasn't going to get any sleep with so much hanging over his head. As much as he disliked Dumbledore, a few more of his words crept into Harry's mind.  
  
"...you will have to find the distinction between feelings battling each other and knowing when you are content with yourself on your own."  
  
Against his better judgement, he reached out and seized the necklace's plaque. He held it for a few seconds before coming to the conclusion that it was not helping. Harry certainly didn't feel content with himself so he came to another conclusion that this is what it's like to have feelings battling each other. It was not a very good feeling and, in fact, it was rather upsetting.  
  
"Holding that plaque reminds you nothing you have done is a waste and it is that feeling of self-confidence that you have been hanging over since you moved into Privet Drive."  
  
That was another thing Dumbledore had said, only Harry still agreed with himself that pulling Sirius from Azkaban was a waste of time. It might be a good idea, he thought, to decipher the rest of that speech but now was not the time. Harry's head was pounding and he was very tired. He put the necklace back on the table and glanced at his watch, also on the table, the urge to hold the necklace leaving him. Nothing could explain how much he wanted to fall asleep and his eyelids agreed. After finding out it was almost two thirty in the morning, that was another thing to add to the battlefield.  
  
Harry turned to lay on his back and folded his arms under his covers. His eyes moved towards everyone else's bed. Ron, Dean, Neville, Seamus... They were all sleeping, not tortured by neither the most powerful Dark wizard for a century still wanting to kill them nor their school headmaster trusting the one who saw to having their parents killed. Wormtail proved he could lie to and backstab anyone. What's preventing him from stabbing Dumbledore in the back... literally?  
  
A silly... no... ridiculous... no... outrageous -- yes, that was the word for it -- solution -- or was it a solution -- came to him. Cho? Would he dare to see if she would listen to him? Harry turned on his side again to look at his necklace. Just the thought of Cho released a small amount of tension and the urge to grab the plaque came back. She had not had such a grandeur life either so maybe she would see things his way.  
  
"You feel something whenever you hold it because that necklace is the result of everything you've ever done, every life you've ever saved, every hardship you've ever endured and every life you've ever touched."  
  
The urge to hold the plaque rose higher. Dumbledore was right, Harry had saved many lives and he had certainly touched Ginny's life. He paused for a moment, eyeing his name written in white gold. Harry blinked but the name Harry James Potter didn't disappear yet. This could certainly count as one of those hardships. Feeling more guilty still, Harry reached his hand out and seized the plaque once more, this time very much so against his better judgement.  
  
That did the trick.  
  
A feeling of contentedness washed over him like a wave of cool water. It bordered on ecstasy. He turned on his back again and smiled to himself, taking a deep breath. As Harry let it out, he closed his eyes and his stomach quivered from chuckling softly to himself, the air coming out in broken pieces. He put the back of a hand to his forehead, the hand holding the plaque dangling off the edge of the bed, amused and satisfied with his idea, still smiling to himself. Harry reopened his eyes when he let all the air out. The solution to all of that was easy. Why didn't he think of Cho sooner?  
  
Now his only question was, as he finally felt calm enough to drift off into sleep, when would he have the time to talk to her? Hopefully there was going to be another Hogsmeade visit the coming Wednesday before the Halloween Feast. A more pressing matter (and Harry was very relieved for it to seem so important) was that of sleep. He would have to wake up in about five hours.  
  
For only having gotten so few hours of sleep, he awoke feeling remarkably refreshed, though not fully awake. Hermione, attentive as ever, noticed the bags under his eyes.  
  
"I haven't been getting much sleep lately," Harry told her in a tone he hoped sounded innocent.  
  
"I can see that. You almost fell asleep in your porridge."  
  
"Rough night."  
  
"Something's bothering you again, isn't it?"  
  
Ron, who had been tending solely to his pancakes, looked up at Harry at Hermione's words. It was then Harry realized that he hadn't mentioned Dumbledore's speech to anyone. That would also make for some great conversation.  
  
"Sorry, I forgot to mention that Dumbledore once gave me this really long speech on why I feel better when I hold this plaque," he would say. "He said it had to do with self-confidence and understanding a buttload of feelings that have been confusing me senseless."  
  
It made Harry sick to his stomach at having to spill that to anyone other than Sirius.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
He didn't notice that he had been dozing off again.  
  
"I'm okay, really," he lied  
  
"No you're not," Hermione said sternly.  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
"You're not," she said sharply. "And I know you're not because every few days lately you've been coming to breakfast looking dead on your feet and I know from plenty personal experience it means you've been up all night. Come off it, Harry, and tell us."  
  
Harry appreciated the concern, and yet... he would have to spill something because he promised Sirius he would. He put his spoon down and stared into his porridge like it was a Pensieve. Okay then, he thought, I'm just going to say what I need to make myself feel a little better. Hermione looked at him with an air of superiority, like he was an infant and she was reprimanding him.  
  
"Dumbledore gave me a really big speech on this thing," he said, holding up he Order of Merlin plaque. "About why holding it makes me feel better. It's not magical, it's all in my head... and I feel guilty whenever I grab it."  
  
"What d'you mean 'it's all in your head?'" Ron asked.  
  
Should he tell or should he not tell?  
  
"I'll save that part of the talk for Sirius," Harry said without thinking. Only after he said it did he realize what he said and it sounded like he believed there was still a prayer to be had for Sirius. Harry immediately felt stupid for saying it.  
  
"Face it, he's a goner," Ron said with a face of utmost sorrow.  
  
That wasn't quite how Ron wanted to say it but as much as Harry wanted to deny it, he couldn't. Sirius' rogue soul had tried to suck out the remnants and the Soul-Saver Potion had worked against them instead of for them. Harry grunted something that resembled "yeah" and, feeling almost as bad as he had a few short hours ago, went back to dully sipping his porridge. Ron and Hermione seemed to be sharing in his gloom, although they really weren't upset. They only knew half of what was bugging him... (hadn't he thought that once before?).  
  
"You better keep your promise to Sirius and tell someone," Hermione said, staring at Harry's hair (he was too busy trying to eat in silence).  
  
He didn't look up, he just nodded. Hermione was satisfied. That decided it, then. He was going to try to bring personal things up with Cho and then talk about it.  
  
"When's our next Hogsmeade visit?" he asked suddenly.  
  
"Wednesday," Ron said. "Why?"  
  
Harry grinned.  
  
He waited, very impatiently, for Monday and Tuesday to pass. As usual, all classes were canceled for Halloween and the Great Hall was decorated. Pumpkins floated overhead instead of candles, a particularly smug one sitting atop the center of the staff table.  
  
Nearly Headless Nick was in boisterous spirits. Peeves had been attempting to smash the pumpkins but the Bloody Baron put his foot down -- right on Peeves' head. Professor McGonagall screamed something about poltergeists at the sound of Peeves' deafening cry of pain and it took her in a minute to remember that Peeves was a poltergeist...  
  
Professor Delacour didn't approve of the bats that fluttered inside the Great Hall, especially after one confused a bit of her hair as food. Harry didn't care much for the decorations that breakfast, he was much interested in speeding time up. It had a bad habit of going slower than a flobberworm when you wanted it to speed up. Monday morning, Harry asked Cho if they could have some more alone-time and she quickly agreed.  
  
Unforunately, Ginny was around when Harry asked Cho this and the last he heard of Ginny was stomping and a door slamming. Ginny still couldn't accept it. Harry tried to not feel guilty. It wasn't his fault, really...  
  
Odd as it was, Harry didn't see Cho at all for the rest of Monday and all of Tuesday. She wasn't hiding from him, was she?  
  
Hogsmeade was it's quiet self that night with not as many people running around the streets. It looked rather like a ghost town. A steady, moderately light rain cascaded over the rooftops but Harry, Ron and Hermione had succeeded in becoming substantially wet, their clothing adding a few pounds to their weight.  
  
The sun had come out by the evening and when Harry stepped into the Three Broomsticks at three just to get warm, there she sat, chatting to a bunch of Ravenclaws, a Hufflepuff and --  
  
"Hey, Ginny," said Harry brightly.  
  
Ginny's head whipped in his direction but she turned it back even faster towards the Hufflepuff she had been talking to.  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione wrung as much water out of their cloaks as possible and shouldered them. They took a seat near the fire in a feeble attempt to get drier and warmer. Hermione had suggested Harry bring along his dad's cloak but in his mad rushing to get ready, he had forgotten to take it.  
  
Ginny scuttled over to their table as soon as they sat and plopped down between Ron and Hermione (which, incidentally, allowed her sit across from Harry).  
  
"You're acting very strange these days, Ginny," Ron said looking at her like she had suddenly grown a lightning-shaped scar on her forehead.  
  
"Stranger than usual, you mean?" asked Harry, not looking at Ginny. She scuttled back to the other table. "Honestly, I give up," he said, watching Ginny engage in conversation again.  
  
"You just make sure you tell Cho what you won't tell us and keep your promise to Sirius," said Hermione sternly.  
  
"Right, right..." Harry muttered.  
  
Suddenly, now that it was safe to consider Sirius dead, keeping all his promises to Sirius was very important to Harry. Though he still had a tough time accepting this...  
  
Within a half hour, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws all left Cho and Harry to themselves. Cho signaled him over, a sparkle in her eye, and Harry took a seat next to her, the happiness he experienced in Cho's presence slowly coming back.  
  
"Sorry about not being around Monday or Tuesday," Cho said. "Had to stay after class in Arithmancy."  
  
"So how you been?" Harry asked.  
  
Cho was suddenly very interested in her fingernails. Harry noticed a very tiny picture of the scar on his forehead on each one of them.  
  
"Bad?" Harry asked.  
  
"I gave a lot of thought to what you said last time, you know, about... not hating them. I didn't need to do anything though," she added, laughing airily. "As soon as I told my dad you and I had become great friends, the next day he started to act a little more normal."  
  
She looked up and smiled. Harry grinned back.  
  
"Anything new with you?" Cho asked.  
  
Yes, Harry said to himself, there was a lot that was new and none of it was pleasant.  
  
"Two things," he began slowly. "I haven't told anyone because... they're really personal... It's really bothering me and I just have to tell someone... D'you... really wanna hear it?" he asked, unable to stop his face from looking like she would say no.  
  
"Sure!" she said, sounding strangely enthusiastic. "What's up?"  
  
Harry took a deep, calming breath before continuing.  
  
"I don't know why, maybe it's dumb but when I hear James Griffith's first name sometimes I... picture my dad. The black hair, his glasses..."  
  
To his great surprise, Cho's smile widened.  
  
"You miss them!" she said, hugging him lightly. "Anything that's going to remind you of them will bring a memory back, Harry. Nothing to be embarassed about."  
  
"Just don't tell him, okay?"  
  
"Promise," she said, beaming.  
  
"Well, and then there's this thing," Harry said, holding up the Order of Merlin plaque. As usual, holding it brought a small wave of calmness. "Dumbledore gave me a long speech after I told him that whenever I hold it, it makes me feel better. Thing is, it's not magical or anything."  
  
Cho raised an eyebrow.  
  
"I know," he said, letting go of it so it dangled in the air.  
  
He laughed airily and nervously. It was going to take a herculean effort to tell without stopping. Harry remembered back to how it felt to tell about the third task in the Triwizard Tournament: it felt like a poison leaving him. Yes, he agreed with himself, if he was going to tell her this, tell her everything and leave out nothing. With that in mind (and grabbing the plaque again for comfort), he continued. Cho put the eyebrow down.  
  
"I feel guilty when I hold it," he started, dully. "Dumbledore said it was because..." -- and he paused to think for a moment -- "because he said that after all I've done, all I ever wanted was a house with... with people I could talk to and... not have to worry about getting killed each year."  
  
Cho continued to listen, not asking any questions, letting Harry continue. It was much easier to talk about it now that he had started.  
  
"You have no idea how shocked I was when Mr. Fudge called me up to get it. Sometimes I look at it and still need to stare at my name for a minute to believe it's mine. Dumbledore said that when I hold it, it's like real proof it's mine... and the necklace... his words were 'Holding that plaque reminds you nothing you have done is a waste and it is that feeling of self-confidence that you have been hanging over since you moved into Privet Drive.'"  
  
Harry kept staring at his thumbs. He continued unabated, spilling everything as it came, talking himself dry, not taking much notice to what he was saying as it was all coming up from his heart and out through his mouth.  
  
"I... don't know what to think. Sunday night I was up for three hours going over a lot of things in my head -- Pettigrew sneaking in, Dumbledore actually trusting him, both James' -- and had a really big urge to hold the necklace because I couldn't fall asleep.  
  
"Dumbledore also told me that '...you will have to find the distinction between feelings battling each other and knowing when you are content with yourself on your own.' Been getting a lot of that. I hated that night, I felt like crap. Finally grabbed this thing... didn't help -- just felt too bad. I had and still have this itchy feeling Pettigrew is gonna end up killing someone and then there's Sirius.  
  
"I'd love to talk to him -- and I usually do when I'm upset like this -- but... So that night I tried to think of someone else who might want to listen to me and... well..."  
  
Harry finally looked up. The poison that was supposed to be leaving him had not drained at all -- talking to Cho just wasn't the same as talking to Sirius. It was possibly because there was something not right about the way she was looking at him. He finished up the last of it anyway.  
  
"I've been having more feelings battle each other the past few days than I think since in the past few years. It... really bothers me and I just want to feel content with myself for at least a few months..."  
  
There was an uneasy pause in which Harry became aware of his surroundings again, trying to decide whether it was a good idea or not at having said all of that. There, in front of him, was the very pretty Cho, whom he liked a lot. He was sitting in the Three Broomsticks and according to his very nice looking, gold watch, it was about a quarter after four.  
  
"I-I'm sorry," Cho said suddenly and nervously, avoiding Harry's eyes.  
  
"What?"  
  
Maybe it was because Harry had said too much... that must be it.  
  
"I can't," she said, standing up very abruptly, almost knocking the chair backwards. "I'm sorry, Harry. Good bye." Cho started to quickly walk towards the exit.  
  
"What?" Harry repeated blankly. "What d'you mean 'good bye'? Cho?" he added, with a heavy note of desperacy in his voice. "Cho!"  
  
She didn't respond. She didn't look back. Harry let go of the plaque, stood up and watched Cho leave the Three Broomsticks without a backwards glance with a desperate look on his own face, mouth wide open. He couldn't believe what had just happened. She walked out on him, just like that.  
  
He had done it. Harry had calmed himself down too much and said too much. Some things were just best kept to yourself... Nevermind what Sirius had said. Harry was going to do what kept people friends with him: keep it to himself. Without friends, there was no hope at all. He stood dumbstruck, staring at the empty door.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
Someone tapped him on the shoulder and he turned around.  
  
"Girl trouble?" said Madam Rosmerta, the bar lady. Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes?"  
  
"I told her what was bothering me and she walked out," Harry said, feeling depressed. "So much for getting something off my chest."  
  
"Best not to keep things bottled up. It's just a shame she responded the way she did. You did the right thing for yourself. If she really loves you, she wouldn't have left without a good reason and she'll be willing to make a second try."  
  
"Love?" asked Harry quickly. "We're just... really good friends."  
  
Madam Rosmerta smiled.  
  
"Have a butterbeer on the house. You can use it."  
  
She walked to the bar and brought back a large glass of butterbeer.  
  
"Sit down already," she said, pointing at his chair. Harry didn't seem to notice that he was still standing. Madam Rosmerta took Cho's seat.  
  
Harry drank the entire glass in one gulp. It wasn't the least bit warming and soothing as usual. A quick grab of the Order of Merlin plaque again didn't do anything (he put it back under his robes so it looked like he wasn't just holding it).  
  
"Thirsty, are you?"  
  
"Gotta get back to Hogwarts," said Harry shortly. "Halloween Feast."  
  
"Okay then," said Madam Rosmerta cheerfully. "Say hello to Hagrid, Minerva and Albus for me, will you?"  
  
"Okay," said Harry, standing up and exiting.  
  
He had felt lonely and miserable before but at the very least, when he had explained something to someone, they hadn't coldly walked out on him. With Sirius and the girl (whom Madam Rosmerta saw fit to use the 'L' word) now so clearly out of the picture, nothing would bring Harry back to earth and stop him from feeling like there was a dementor in his presence wherever he went. It was that cold, terrible sadness with no hope of recovery that pervaded his thoughts the rest of that night. Ron and Hermione had to pull him by the arms to make Harry sit with them during the Halloween Feast.  
  
"She walked out," said Harry. "Just like that. Didn't look back. Just said 'I'm sorry, good bye' and that was it."  
  
"What about Sirius?" said Hermione, trying to sound comforting.  
  
"What about him?" Harry asked hotly. "He's dead."  
  
"No he's not -"  
  
"Well he might as well be. He's not getting up out of that death bed and running around any time soon. Voldemort will send us all Christmas presents before that happens. We ought to just arrange a funeral for him."  
  
Hermione's mouth opened in horror.  
  
Ron blinked and then when his mouth would finally move, he asked, "A funeral?"  
  
"It's bad enough I know where he is everyday. Better off having a service so I can get him out of my head. Wormtail, remember? And close your mouth, I don't want to look at that because it reminds me of blood," he added, noting the very red cranberries that Ron was chewing on. 


	15. Dumbledore's Mistake

Chapter 15: DUMBLEDORE'S MISTAKE  
  
Over the next several weeks, Harry's aura of doom and gloom had not lifted. Cho had not made an appearance at all. Ginny was taking this very happily and she began to act more friendly towards Harry. Of course, he didn't care at all and would rather Ginny walk out like Cho did. Hermione was furious with the pair of them but Ron was totally indifferent.  
  
After forming the final conclusion in his head, at the start of December, Harry told Dumbledore after one Paladism class about what he wanted to do with Sirius.  
  
"If that... is what you want, it's entirely up to you," said Dumbledore very hesitantly.  
  
"I do..." Harry said with a little more confidence, and then, deciding to do the thing right, he added, "and... the sooner the better."  
  
"You're sure, now?" Dumbledore asked, pointing his long, crooked nose at Harry.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"A funeral?" Dumbledore said, making sure that he had heard Harry correctly.  
  
"Yes," Harry repeated.  
  
"Very well," said Dumbledore, turning away and sitting down in his chair. The sparkle behind his half-moon spectacles died out completely. "Perhaps we can get him into a very special cemetary in the United States. There's an entire wizarding city called Mystic in the state of Connecticut containing a popular burial ground recognized world-wide. Nicolas Flamel rests there."  
  
Dumbledore did not look remotely pleased, however, at Harry's request.  
  
"Run along now," he said. "I will see to preparations."  
  
Hermione insisted Harry was "nuts" for telling Dumbledore but Harry insisted there was "nothing that was going to help him. He's dead. I'm saying it. Why won't you?"  
  
One Friday night, Harry decided to let Cappy out of the cage Hermione built from wooden sticks. Sitting in the empty Gryffindor common room once more, if nothing else helped lift his spirits, the disgusting tongue of a puffskein pulling boogies out of his nose had to do something.  
  
"You actually like that?" Hermioned asked him.  
  
"No not really but nothing else seems to be working," said Harry.  
  
"So you really want to bury Sirius?"  
  
"You make it sound like it's a big decision..."  
  
"Well it is!" Hermione shrieked.  
  
"No it's not," said Harry flatly. "He's been lying there for months and months. The only thing that did anything was the potion and it totally backfired on us. Should have just left him there. He would have been cleared eventually and released and everything would be okay."  
  
Harry stared at the fire while Cappy rolled around on his lap. Getting Sirius out of Hogwarts was the best way to get Sirius out of Harry's head. As the fire cracked and popped, he was reminded of when he had first seen Sirius' head sticking out that very fire. It was a strange situation but the conversation that had ensued after the initial shock wore off was one of his best yet. If only he could do that once more.  
  
But no, that was a dream. Ron was staring at Harry with the same tragic look that Professor Trelawney had evidently taught him how to give. Harry started to feel like the whole world was against him. First Sirius dies and then Cho walks out. What was next?  
  
For a time during Harry's second year, he was thought throughout the entire school to be the one opening the Chamber of Secrets, setting the basilisk inside it on students and petrifying them. He wouldn't mind that so much now -- at least during that he got support from Ron and Hermione and not well chosen, slightly poetic words that were supposed to make Harry feel better. Can it get any worse? Yes, Harry thought irritably, it can.  
  
"Cappy, what are you doing..." said Harry.  
  
Cappy was rolling back and forth on the edge of his knee, threatening to fall off.  
  
"She's going to run away again, isn't she," said Ron, getting ready to pounce the moment she moved.  
  
All of their eyes were on Cappy and no sooner had Hermione shouted, "GRAB HER!" than Cappy had plunged herself through the portrait hall. Ron missed.  
  
"COME BACK HERE YOU STUPID PUFFSKEIN! THAT'S IT, SHE'S GOING BACK TO HAGRID!" Harry roared so loud that he more than likely woke a few people up. "Accio Dragonback!"  
  
Broomstick in hand, Ron and Hermione followed Harry through the hall and chased after Cappy. She took the exact same path: down the corridor away from the Fat Lady's portrait, slipping through their fingers and heading towards the third floor corridor.  
  
"Not again," Harry sighed, pulling out his wand. "It's a shame Summoning Charms don't work on living things."  
  
"They do," Hermione said, frowning at Harry. "Accio Cappy!"  
  
She should not have done that.  
  
The jet of light flew from her wand through the crack of the door leading into the late Fluffy's room and hit Cappy square on the fur.  
  
It would have worked out great, except just as it hit, a white light shout out of Cappy's outstretched toungue. Suddenly Hermione was lifted off her feet, arms flailing, and crashed headlong through the door, smashing into the back wall with a sickening crunch. She managed to stick an arm out to prevent her head from getting the full impact.  
  
Harry and Ron both gasped and stood dumbstruck for a few moments.  
  
"Hermione!"  
  
Harry ran inside, Ron at his heel, putting all his troubles aside. The trap door was ajar but more important was Hermione. There was a bit of blood leaking down her brown, bushy hair. Hermione's eyes were closed and she was crumpled up against the wall. Her left arm stuck out at an odd angle.  
  
"She's not dead... is she?" asked Ron, quivering at the thought.  
  
Harry put two fingers to her neck to check for a pulse.  
  
"No," he said, "still alive. She's out cold -- and she's got a broken arm." Harry stood up and turned, full of purpose, to Run. "Get her to the hospital wing. I'll get the stupid puffskein."  
  
Ron nodded and turned towards the limp Hermione.  
  
"Mobilicorpus," he said, wand pointed at Hermione and he was off without a backward glance.  
  
"All right you stupid animal," Harry barked.  
  
He mounted the Dragonback and dived straight into the hole.  
  
"Lumos!" he shouted when he landed. His wand lit up the room as daylight and not as a mere small flashlight. It was still damp, dark and gloomy and drips of water invaded the otherwise eerie silence.  
  
The candle from last time was gone. Had someone been down here? Had someone known they were down here?  
  
Harry headed down through the flying key room and the door stood ajar. A faint, cold hiss came from from inside.  
  
"Cappy?"  
  
He knew Cappy couldn't make that kind of sound but he tried to make himself believe it. Harry poked his head in and looked all around the giant chess board. The hiss sounded again and Harry walked inside. Snakes were no problem; he could simply tell them to leave him alone -- if they were small.  
  
Cappy was still not visible and the door at the end of the giant chess board was also open. Harry put his wand in first and looked around. It lit the room like a large candle but yet again, Cappy was nowhere to be found. If he did not spot Cappy in the chamber of the Philosopher's Stone, he would just head back.  
  
Harry walked through the chamber where the troll used to be. Still no Cappy but he heard the faint, cold hiss once again and this time it was slightly louder and venomous. He stepped across the room carefully and went towards the door at the other side.  
  
He slowly walked through the door and into the room where the potions had been. Again, no Cappy anywhere in sight and thankfully, the fires were not lit so he could walk in and out freely.  
  
He walked through the passage and heard the hiss, louder than ever. Harry stumbled backwards at the sight of what faced him, his eyes livid.  
  
The basilisk from the Chamber of Secrets was there in all it's ugly glory. At least twenty feet long, still thick enough to eat Hagrid in one swallow, it's eyes perfectly normal again. There was no sword sticking out of the roof of it's mouth and it was apparently sleeping, coiled up like a thick rope.  
  
The scream that escaped Harry's mouth had woken it up.  
  
The basilisk hissed madly as it's yellow eyes began to reveal themselves. Harry jammed his own eyes shut, heart now beating in his throat, and did the fastest about-face in his life. The snake not visible to him, he reopened his eyes and ran as fast as his legs would take him.  
  
The basilisk was a force to be reckoned with as Harry heard it slither madly through each and every corridor, breaking stone and Harry's hopefulness of getting out alive alike.  
  
Not thinking about anything except getting out of there, Harry mounted his Dragonback and flew with as much precision, trying carefully not to slam into walls, as he could muster. He was barely able to go faster than the basilisk, carefully maneuvering through the troll room... the potion room... the giant chess set... the flying keys. When he was in the Devil Snare room, Harry shot straight up, hearing the hissing of the basilisk die away.  
  
"Come!" hissed the cold, venomous voice. "Let me tear... rip..."  
  
He slammed the trap door shut, kicked Fluffy's door wide open, ran through it and slammed it shut, too. Harry leaned against it, breathing so heavy his lungs were expanding several inches on each breath. He finally became aware of the sweat pouring down his face and leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees. He layed the Dragonback and his wand on the floor.  
  
The basilisk, alive again? Can't be, he saw it die... And how would it get into the chamber of the Philosopher's Stone?  
  
Worst of all, Harry could not be seen being out at night. Dumbledore would keep his word of expelling Harry should he be doing any more rule-breaking and sneaking out and into an underground passage would definitely count as breaking at least one rule.  
  
All of his attention was quickly averted from his thoughts, his breathing stopped and he looked straight ahead, his eyes livid, when he heard it again.  
  
"Kill... let me rip..."  
  
Harry took two steps away from the door, picking up his broom and wand, and turned around, staring at the closed door.  
  
There was another hiss, a clunk, a loud thud and then --  
  
BANG.  
  
Harry muffled his scream this time as the door flew across the corridor, bits of stone and wood trailing behind it, and crawling out of the trap door was the basilisk. Harry crossed the corridor and reached the main stairs in record time. At that very moment, Ron had come running.  
  
"RUN!" Harry shouted.  
  
Ron stopped and said, "Why?"  
  
"DO IT!"  
  
Obviously, Harry didn't have to explain. The basilisk had come bounding around the corner. Harry had no time to think. If this went on any longer, the castle could suffer extreme damage and there was no telling how much damage the basilisk already did underground.  
  
His brain went on autopilot. He closed his eyes, pointed his wand at the door where the basilisk was and shouted two words, wondering whether they would work or not.  
  
"AVADA KEDAVRA!"  
  
Harry heard nothing. No flash of green light, no pop from the end of his wand, no roar of the basilisk's death cry, no screaming. The spell had failed. But no sooner had he opened his eyes to see the basilisk brandish it's fangs at him, only able to see down it's throat, ready to kill him properly this time, than had the basilisk disappeared before his eyes.  
  
Harry, shaking, tapped Ron on the shoulder and turned him around.  
  
"Something strange is DEFINITELY going on down there," said Ron, staring at the space where just a minute ago there was a huge, poisonous snake.  
  
Maybe Ron could speak, but Harry was too busy waiting for his heart to sink back into his chest.  
  
"Come on," Ron said, tugging on Harry's outstretched arm (Harry had not put his wand down). "It's gone, let's go."  
  
Harry allowed himself to be pulled a few feet before he could say, "The thing broke the trap door and the other door is broken. We better fix it, I'm not getting expelled because of a pet."  
  
"Where's Cappy?"  
  
"I don't know and I don't care," said Harry quickly and firmly. "The basilisk was sleeping in the last chamber. You could say that my screaming might have woken it up."  
  
With almost a half hour's worth of fruitless efforts, they were able to put the door back on it's hinges after many, many failed tries of "Compingus Reparo." Harry was the one that managed to close the three foot wide hole in Fluffy's room with another charm. When they were both convinced it looked like no damage had been done, they set off towards the common room, meeting nobody, thankfully, on the way.  
  
"How's Hermione?" Harry asked Ron when they got back. They both fell heavily onto a squashy armchair and stared into space.  
  
"Madam Pomfrey was convinced when I said she messed up a Summoning Charm," Ron replied. "She does have a broken arm and she's got a cut on the top of her head. Should be back tomorrow morning. How'd that thing come back?" he added gravely, looking up at Harry.  
  
Harry looked back, puzzled.  
  
"I don't know. Are they hiding something down there again and that's just one of the defensive spells guarding it? I mean, it just disappeared..."  
  
They both climbed the spiral stairs to their dormitory after staring nonplussed at each other for a good minute.  
  
Harry did not care much about how he fell asleep that night. All he wanted was to get any sleep at all and so he clutched the Order of Merlin plaque in his fingers, hiding it under his covers.  
  
During Divination the next day, Professor Trelawney had made it clear this was their last day with dreams and visions.  
  
Ron followed Harry up the ladder through the trap door in the ceiling and they both took a seat on a pouf in the back of the room, farthest from the insect-like person they were supposed to call a Professor. She looked thinner than usual through the dim light of the fire. Harry watched as Professor Trelawney adjusted her shawl and sat on an armchair just in front of the fire.  
  
She peered around the room, gazing at them all. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, to whom Professor Trelawney was something of a hero, much like Harry was to Dennis Creevey, gaped at her in awe. There was nothing to speak of about Professor Trelawney of being out of the ordinary today. She turned to look at Harry and the usual look of tragic sorrow crossed her face. Harry rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall.  
  
"I wish I would just drop dead so you could finally feel that that look you always give me is worth something," said Harry, his anger getting the best of him, staring her in the eye.  
  
"My dear, one should not wish something on oneself especially when draped with the clairvoyant vibrations of this room," she replied. Ron successfully hid a snigger. Harry felt a stab of annoyance.  
  
Professor Trelawney pulled out the wolf pelt from behind her chair and laid it out in front of her. Parvati and Lavender stared at it. At once, Professor Trelawney beckoned people forward to try and dream. Snape seemed to have given her an endless supply of potion to help as was evident by the huge jug of pink, swirly potion that she concealed behind her armchair.  
  
Ron awoke with, to Harry's relief, just a shrug. At last, "Potter," Professor Trelawney called.  
  
Harry laid himself down, spread-eagle again, on the wolf pelt. She never really explained why they had to stretch their arms and legs out but Harry heard her mumble something like "it helps you relax." There was nothing relaxing about looking like an idiot. Harry jerked his wrist a few times to stop his watch's face from poking into it and pulled the Order of Merlin plaque out from under his armpit before he reluctantly let Professor Trelawney slip the pink, swirly potion down his throat. The effect was instant.  
  
The world beneath him disappeared once again and the floor felt like air. All the sensations in his body disappeared at once and once again he could not move any part of himself. Blackness filled his eyes as he waited anxiously for something to appear before him. He would like to have had use of his thoughts... but that was not possible, just as before.  
  
A swirl of color swam before his eyes and this time there was just black, a distinct golden color and the shape of something that became so big, so fast, drowning out the black, that Harry couldn't make it out. It became very wide, not tall, and from it shined a white light so bright that Harry's eyes squinted from the brilliance. He was looking down on something.  
  
A hand came into view, a hand that looked remarkably like the one Voldemort had blessed Wormtail with, and flattened itself over the mysterious object. Harry, who, as before, had taken on the living persona of whoever he was seeing through -- and it was Wormtail, there was no question -- moved his lips as he gazed down at the object.   
  
"Friends and family, relatives and relations all gather for a revival. What floats before us is the soul of soulless and what lies before us is the body of the soulless."  
  
Harry could feel a heavy but comfortingly warm breeze kick up. He didn't know where he was, Wormtail's head and eyes wouldn't move. The object flashed brighter briefly, as if there were bolts of lightning nearby.  
  
"Circled around the soulless, we reattach the soul it's body. Friends of the victim around provide a will to return."  
  
The breeze quickly became quite uncomfortable as it picked up in speed and became increasingly hotter. Wormtail did not speak for a minute. Heat grazed Harry's -- or rather, Wormtail's -- skin and beads of sweat broke out over his forehead.  
  
"Trusted friend of the birthgivers stand at the foot, providing a beacon for direction. The birthgivers stand at the sides, beckoning the detached closer."  
  
A bunch of eerie voices filled the air, which became swelteringly hot. The wind was like a hurricane, trying it's hardest to knock him over. There was more to be read, but Wormtail did not continue. His hand left Harry's view and soon the object became half as wide.  
  
"Good," said Wormtail as the eerie voices left, the storm disappeared, the air returned to normal and the wind became nothing, "it's here... the plan will go on... Now, he must not get it, he can't... I won't let him... the Dark Lord won't be able to get what he wants if he does..."  
  
Wormtail's hand covered the object once more and as his head finally turned to reveal his location, the vision was swept away before Harry could recognize it. He felt himself falling again as feeling returned to him and he awoke trying to decipher what the object was, ignoring for a minute Professor Trelawney ("My dear, what did you see?") with a look of pure confusion on his face. It hit him like a dragon's tail to the arm.  
  
"I was looking through Wormtail's eyes," Harry said, propping himself up on his hands. "He was reading from the Book of Memories. I think it was the incantation to attach a soul to it's body?"  
  
Harry failed to mention what Wormtail said after he finished reading. That information was to be saved for Ron and Hermione in a corner of the Gryffindor common room that night.  
  
"He was saying 'he must not get it.' I know who he was talking about," said Harry miserably, "me. He was reading that thing Dumbledore used to revive me that summer. Wormtail also said 'the Dark Lord won't be able to get what he wants if he does...' It doesn't take a genius to figure out what he's going to do."  
  
Ron straightened up in his chair, a look on his face that was a mixture of puzzlement and horror, and Harry could see the gears in his brain working furiously. Hermione simply stared in a bemused sort of way before opening her mouth. Ron turned to look at her.  
  
"Well Harry was right then, wasn't he?" she said as if that was the end of the story. "When we didn't want to trust Dumbledore?"  
  
"Then that makes me worry about Dumbledore," said Ron, injecting much unnecessary confusion.  
  
"Why would Dumbledore trust him!" Harry yelled. "He's a backstabber. He tried to deceieve the entire world into thinking he was dead. What's Wormtail up to now?"  
  
"Maybe... d'you think... that... just maybe you should listen to Dumbledore?" said Hermione timidly. She was expecting to get thrown another flurry of explicatives from Harry.  
  
"I don't have much choice, do I," he said, looking down at his feet. Crookshanks was purring by his leg and Harry shooed him away. There was an awkward silence.  
  
"Dumbledore hasn't been wrong yet," Hermione said, trying to break the silence. "I mean, there has to be something behind his trust, hasn't there?"  
  
"I don't think so," said Harry irritably. "Wormtail doesn't want me getting the book because then Lord Voldemort -"  
  
"But why didn't he just swipe it and run out?" interrupted Hermione.  
  
"How's he going to run out with something when everyone knows he's there? Conceal it under an Invisibility Cloak?"  
  
Harry should not have said that -- the horror that followed on all their faces was unmatched.  
  
"The worst thing about it is my dreams are usually present, not the future which means he was playing with it just then. Where is it anyway?"  
  
"Where else? Where the Philosopher's Stone was," said Ron.  
  
"I was there twice," said Harry, "remember? Where is it? There was nothing in that last chamber except the basilisk."  
  
The fact of what they saw and where they knew the book must be -- and there was no other place it could be hidden as Harry knew all the secret passages thanks to his trusty map of Hogwarts -- turned off any light bulbs in even Hermione's head as to how to get to it. What if they saw something even scarier than the basilisk? A chimera? A nundu? What if there was something so shocking that they passed out and were left to rot? And most importantly -  
  
"What kinda spell can do that?" said Ron, scratching his head. "What was it? A shadow? A spell? Were your aunt and uncle and the basilisk really there? I mean, your aunt, Harry... and the basilisk again..."  
  
The absurdity of how that sounded didn't set in for quite a while. Aunt Petunia, Harry's aunt, sister of Lily Potter, the one woman that could not possibly hate magic more than any other living being on this earth... no, couldn't be.  
  
"Is she?" asked Harry. "Two strange things down there. I mean, I just think there's another Petunia Dursley out there. What about that other dream I had?"  
  
"Oh, I figured that out ages ago," Hermione said, downplaying any sort of mystering surrounding it. "You saw Pettigrew running through the forest and when he transformed into a rat, the vision just sort of failed and you woke up."  
  
"Makes sense," said Ron, "kinda..."  
  
"But now what do we do?" asked Harry.  
  
"We don't do anything," Hermione said sharply. "Dumbledore has it under control even though I agree Pettigrew is lying. Should we tell Dumbledore about your dream?"  
  
"He knows where the book is," Harry said matter-of-factly. "He can steal it any time he wants. It just doesn't make sense, why would Dumbledore trust him? And what good will telling Dumbledore do anyway -- he threatened to expell me, remember?" he added darkly.  
  
They all exchanged dark looks.  
  
"We should get to bed," said Ron. It sounded as though they would come up with an excellent plan to thwart Wormtail in the morning. His tone deceived nobody -- Ron was just as worried about what would happen as Harry and Hermione were.  
  
Harry clutched the Order of Merlin plaque as he stood up -- which made him feel slightly less worried -- and held it in his hand all the way up the spiral stairs to his four-post bed.  
  
He didn't need much convincing to think that Dumbledore was going to end up wrong this time and Wormtail would walk out of Hogwarts with the Book of Memories, having killed Dumbledore. Whatever kind of Dark magic Wormtail had in mind was one of the things that speared Harry's brain as he fell asleep that night.  
  
During breakfast, as it has happened twice before, there was some Muggle music playing.  
  
"Please come now, I think I'm falling," one voice was singing to a solo guitar. "I'm holding on to all I think is safe. It seems I've found the road to nowhere and I'm trying to escape."  
  
"Where do they get these songs?" Ron asked as he stuffed his face with toast.  
  
"I yelled back when I heard thunder... but I'm down to one last breath," sung the voice, "And with it let me say... let me say... Hold me now."  
  
"This strange Muggle music..." said Ron.  
  
"I'm six from the edge and I'm thinking," the voice sang, "'maybe six feet ain't so far down.'" Drums and a bass guitar joined the solo guitar. "I'm lookin' down... now that it's over..."  
  
"I think this is a band called Creed," said Harry. "Don't know the song's name, though..."  
  
"...reflecting on all of my mistakes," the voice continued to sing. "I thought I found the road to somewhere, somewhere in His grace..."  
  
"Nevermind the song," said Hermione irritably. "I think we should talk to Hagrid. Yes?"  
  
After all, they had to tell Hagrid off about Cappy and remember to not feel any remorse in saying that she was probably dead. Cappy ruined their night, almost got Harry expelled and made them even more angry at Dumbledore.  
  
"I cried out 'heaven save me!'" the voice sung pleadingly, "But I'm down to one last breath... And with it let me say... let me say." Guitars kicked up louder.  
  
"They saw fit to play heavy metal?" asked Hermione.  
  
"It's a good song!" Ron said.  
  
"Hold me now!" the voice continued singing. "I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking 'maybe six feet ain't so far down!' Hold me now! I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking 'maybe six feet ain't so far down!'"  
  
Hermione glared at him.  
  
"Let's go to Hagrid right after breakfast," said Harry.  
  
"Sad eyes follow me but I still believe there's something left for me," the voice sang. "So please come stay with me!"  
  
"I want to ask him what ever happened to the service for Sirius," Harry said.  
  
"Cause I still believe there's something left for you and me," sung the voice, "for you and me, for you and me..." All the instruments except the solo guitar died away.  
  
"What cemetary did you say they were going to put him in?" asked Ron.  
  
"Hold me now," the voice still sang, all the instruments kicking in again, "I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking 'maybe six feet ain't so far down.' Hold me now! I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking 'maybe six feet ain't so far down!'"  
  
"There's supposed to be a world-reknown cemetary in Mystic, Connecticut in the United States," said Harry. "He said it's an entirely wizarding town."  
  
All the instruments died away again except for the solo guitar and the voice sang, "Please come now, I think I'm falling. I'm holding on to all I think is... safe..."  
  
"Wow," said Ron, awestruck. "A city? Is it bigger than Hogsmeade?"  
  
"I don't know. It's been a month," said Harry, ignoring Ron's change of subject. "What's the hold up?"  
  
December meant coldness at Hogwarts and there was nothing but a carpet of snow on the grounds. There was no wind to speak of but snow and slush, both of which crept into Harry's shoes, making his feet much colder than the hands hidden under his cloak. Hagrid's hut resembled a frosted cake, perfect for a postcard. Snow was neatly piled on top of the roof and there was a lone icicle on the side of it.  
  
They noticed Norbert was nowhere to be found. In his place, there was a deep impression of his tail, feet and claws. Hagrid's door was closed but the lights on in his hut indicated at least someone was in there. As they edged closer, they heard voices coming from inside and it wasn't just Hagrid talking to himself.  
  
"Harry's taking Sirius very hard," said the voice of Dumbledore.  
  
On gut instinct, Hermione grabbed Ron and Harry by the arm and darted behind a tree in the forest, far enough so they couldn't be seen, close enough so they could still hear. Harry forgot all about his numb toes.  
  
"Harry actually wanted a - a funeral?" said Hagrid incredulously.  
  
"Yes," said Dumbledore with utmost assuredness.  
  
"You haven't told him then... have you?" Professor McGonagall asked Dumbledore.  
  
Harry opened his mouth in horror, ready to shout something but Hermione put a hand over it before he could.  
  
"No, I have not," said Dumbledore sharply but sincerely. "I will be arranging Sirius' funeral but I just need a touch more time."  
  
Several of them sighed at once.  
  
"I'm afraid we need to cut this conversation short, Albus," said Professor Moody.  
  
"Damn that magical eye," Harry growled. He had a strong suspicion Professor Moody nodded his head in Harry's direction.  
  
"Shh!" Hermione whispered sharply.  
  
"Very well," said Dumbledore. "Hagrid?"  
  
"Okay, Professor," he said with confidence, though sounding slightly sad.  
  
"See you at lunch then."  
  
Hagrid's door opened and, when the professors' footsteps were no longer audible, Harry, Ron and Hermione walked over to Hagrid's closed front door. Harry knocked rather loudly and Fang, Hagrid's boarhound, answered with a bark.  
  
"Comin'!" Hagrid shouted. "Just a sec!" There was a lot of fumbling of papers, a clang of something metal against wood and after a few seconds, Hagrid opened the door, beaming.  
  
Harry immediately said loudly, "Tell me what, Hagrid?" before Hermione could stop him.  
  
"I ain't sayin' nothing," said Hagrid turning his nose up and turning around. "Yeh can come and talk, but I ain't answerin' that."  
  
"Going to keep something -- don't try to shut me up Hermione --" he said, ignoring her, "from me again?"  
  
"Yeh knew perfectly well you mighta been better off not hearin' that, Harry," said Hagrid sharply in a voice most unlike his own. "And yeh gotta trust me, this yeh don't want ter know. So, er -- yeh wanted a funeral?" he added, trying desperately to change the subject. Harry took the hint.  
  
"Yes," he said, letting go of the thought of trying to force whatever it was out of Hagrid. "But I have to tell you, I'm starting to hate Dumbledore."  
  
"Don't hate him. Has yer best interests in mind, he does. Sit down, c'mon, all of yeh," said Hagrid, receeding back to his usual self. "Yer freezin'!"  
  
Harry suddenly became very aware of the fact that he could no longer feel his toes -- or the rest of his foot for that matter. He took his shoes off and turned each one upside down, dumping a considerable amount of snow on Hagrid's floor. None of that stopped him from continuing on about Dumbledore.  
  
"My best interests? And what does Professor Dumbledore need more time for?" he said irritably putting his shoes back on.  
  
"Rock cake?" said Hagrid suddenly, shoving a piece in Harry's hand.  
  
Without thinking about how bad it probably tasted, Harry took a bite out of it. To his surprise, it was not rock hard and on the contrary, it tasted quite good, unlike previous versions. This must have shown on his face because Hagrid smiled, offering one to Ron and Hermione, both of whom accepted it.  
  
"New recipe from the house elves," said Hagrid, sticking his chest out proudly. "Winky suggested it. Finally feelin' up to herself. Doin' a great job makin' our food."  
  
"Where's Norbert, Hagrid?" said Ron, mouth full of cake. Immediately, Hagrid's eyes swelled with tears. "Sorry..."  
  
"No," Hagrid sobbed, "'s okay, really. Norbert got a little testy last night. Nearly set fire ter me hut and the forest. I been fillin' out paperwork ter send him back ter Romania. Took him away this mornin'. I'll be all right. Harry's the one that we need ter look after," he added, a broad grin evident behind his tangled beard again.  
  
Harry gave him a pair of evil eyes. Hagrid took the hint and shuffled several papers on his table and put them in a cabinet. Truthfully, Harry couldn't deny he never felt so miserable. As much as he wanted there to be any amount of hope for Sirius, Dumbledore confirming the funeral was the cherry on the top of the cake.  
  
The conversation quickly switched to creatures Hagrid was going to show. When Hagrid said he was going to bring a dementor, Ron and Hermione's eyes swelled with fear but Harry's brightened.  
  
"You're mad, Harry," said Ron matter-of-factly.  
  
He wasn't. He was able to ward off hundreds of dementors only three years ago with one spectacular Patronus Charm. Even Professor Lupin, Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for that one year, was impressed. Hagrid explained that Professor Moody would join him during the dementor lessons to teach the Patronus Charm.  
  
When all was said, eaten and drinked, Harry continued to remind Ron and Hermione that --  
  
"I don't like Dumbledore anymore," said Harry turning his nose up at the thought of ever trusting him again.  
  
The three of them were taking a walk around the lake, Harry's dad's cloak, enlarged and folded to fit, around all of them. It was much easier to talk when you weren't freezing from head to frostbitten toe.  
  
"I can't say I don't disagree, Harry," said Hermione, "but, honestly..."  
  
"He kept Sirius' condition from me -- even though I probably shouldn't have found out -- and he's doing it again!" said Harry hotly. "And Wormtail -"  
  
"Harry's right, Hermione," Ron interrupted, turning to look at her, a grim look on his face. "There's still no finding out why he's letting Pettigrew -"  
  
"Wormtail -"  
  
"whatever -- roam the halls of Hogwarts knowing perfectly well he's likely to... to... to --"  
  
"Steal it," said Hermione, finishing Ron's sentence for him, as he was having a lot of trouble doing so himself, "I know. I still think he would have walked out with it under an Invisibility Cloak already. He's had plenty of chances."  
  
"He's biding his time," said Ron, his voice firm but shaky, trying to understand Hermione's stupid line of thought. "Waiting 'till we don't suspect him -- and neither of you better tell me you don't think he knows we suspect him -- and then he'll run off with it. It's either that or he's trying to find out how to use it so he can kill all of us and walk out without any trouble. In fact, I'll bet everything I own on that. But he's dumb. He's likely to screw up." Ron turned to Harry and asked, "How many times has You-Know-Who said he's dumb?"  
  
"Countless," Harry assured.  
  
"And there's nothing either of can do because when it comes down to it," he said both irritably and miserably, " -- you're the brains, Hermione and Harry does all the dirty work. I'm just here to keep you two laughing so you don't lose your marbles. Dumbledore's going to expell Harry if he's caught once more and -- neither of us, Harry, honestly, are as good wizards as you are. And we've just been very lucky Snape or someone hasn't found us."  
  
Harry's head swelled with the thought, both of them... but he shook it off. He didn't want to think about either of them.  
  
Once again, they all exchanged dark looks. Hermione nodded gravely in agreement. When it all came down to how it would happen, Ron said it exactly as how Harry and Hermione thought it would. 


	16. A Bad Christmas

Chapter 16: A BAD CHRISTMAS  
  
All of that was no help to Harry's mood, which had slowly worsened. He had truly thought of living as an outcast wizard as he had once before thought he might have to do, as scary a prospect as it might have sounded -- and for that matter, it still did.  
  
Harry had, in a rage of fury, made his Aunt Marge -- who wasn't even an aunt to him, she just forced him to call her that -- blow up like a balloon when she did the unthinkable. Harry could clearly recall the scene vividly, as he could recall anything involving that wretched woman.  
  
"This Potter, Aunt Marge had said loudly, seizing the brandy bottle that was in front of her and splashing more into her glass and over the tablecloth, "you never told me what he did?"  
  
Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia looked extremely tense. Dudley even looked up from his pie to gape at his parents. They knew very well that this was a very sensitive subject to Harry but they were going to mess it up anyway...  
  
"He -- didn't work," Uncle Vernon said, with half a glance at Harry. "Unemployed." Uncle Vernon never looked more strained.  
  
"As I expected!" Aunt Marge said, taking a huge swig of brandy and wiping her chin on her sleeve. "A no-account, good-for-nothing, lazy scrounger who --"  
  
"He was not," Harry had said suddenly. The table went very quiet at that comment. Harry had been shaking all over. He had never felt so angry in his life. It was just not something Aunt Marge, after all Harry had been through, should have been allowed to say.  
  
"MORE BRANDY!" Uncle Vernon yelled, who had gone very white, in an attempt to quickly change the subject. He then emptied the bottle into Aunt Marge's glass, trying to make her forget. "You, boy," he snarled at Harry. "Go to bed, go on --"  
  
"No, Vernon," hiccuped Aunt Marge, holding up a hand, her tiny bloodshot eyes fixed on Harry's. "Go on, boy, go on. Proud of your parents, are you? They go and get themselves killed in a car crash (drunk, I expect) --"  
  
"They didn't die in a car crash!" Harry said, who had found himself on his feet.  
  
"They died in a car crash, you nasty little liar, and left you to be a burden on their decent, hardworking relatives!" Aunt Marge screamed, swelling with fury. "You are an insolent, ungrateful little --"  
  
But at that point, Aunt Marge had suddenly stopped speaking. For a moment, it looked as though words had failed her. It appeared at first that she was swelling with inexpressible anger -- but the swelling didn't stop. It was then that everybody who was looking at her realized what was happening. Harry, overcome with fury, had caused her to magically enlarge. She rose out of her chair, her arms becoming stubby and sticking out weirdly. Uncle Vernon tried to subdue Harry but Harry ran up to his room, pulled out his wand from his trunk and insisted she deserved it -- and truth be told, she did.  
  
Harry had then gathered his things, stuffed them in his trunk and set out into the dark outside, leaving two members of the Accidental Magic Reversal Department to handle the incident. He thought there was nowhere to go. He had thought Hogwarts would never take him back -- just the previous year had he been sent an official warning because Dobby, the house elf, had used magic to make Aunt Petunia's pudding masterpiece paint the walls of the Dursley kitchen as it crashed to the floor.  
  
This assumption was true, and had the Ministry of Magic not got word that Sirius Black, Harry's then-suspected murder of a godfather, was after Harry (which was also false), he would have most likely been exiled from the wizard world. Having heard many times about the wizard prison Azkaban, Harry considered for a seemingly long and lonely ride on the Knight Bus, to hide from the Ministry of Magic and live as an outcast.  
  
To his almost relief, the Minister of Magic himself, Cornelius Fudge, cornered Harry in front of the Leaky Cauldron after his Knight Bus trip there to retrieve money from his Gringott's vault. It was then that Harry found out that he would, in fact, not be expelled but was left for a week wondering why had gotten off without punishment -- and then he overheard a conversation saying that Sirius was supposedly out to kill him.  
  
Harry was jolted to his senses from his thoughts one fine, wonderful, glorious, sunny... bright... -- gloomy, upsetting, dark and decaying Sunday afternoon by someone slapping him in the face.  
  
"Wake up, Harry," said Ron. "Hogsmeade!"  
  
"I don' wanna go to Hogsmeade," said Harry thickly, his face planted firmly in his pillows.  
  
"Well get up anyway. It's after breakfast."  
  
"I don' wanna get up anyway," said Harry, turning over so he didn't have to look at Ron's happy face.  
  
"No use!" Ron shouted towards the exit. Harry heard a faint voice, which sounded like Hermione's, saying, "Fine," irritably. He was starting to get used to hearing irritated voices. To hear someone else sound like that began to make him feel happier: more people that could share in his depression. Hermione's footsteps came closer and closer until --  
  
"Harry, get your lazy ass out of bed! You're not going to feel any better laying on it!" she shouted furiously, her eyes popping with anger. "Get out! Be happy!"  
  
"I suppose I was happy with my parents," said Harry softly, turning over so he didn't have to face Hermione, "but I don't remember that." Harry wrenched the curtains on his four-poster closed, blocking out the faces of two people that just wouldn't shut up.  
  
Hermione tutted her loudest yet and by the sound of stumbling footsteps, she had grabbed Ron by the arm. Harry turned over and pulled the curtains back just enough to watch them leave. When they were out of sight, he closed the curtains again and stared up at nothing. Perhaps he should have gone? Anything is better than being constantly reminded why you have been blowing off all the people that have been trying to help you.  
  
Even Quidditch had lost it's fun. While Gryffindor was still on track to win the Quidditch Cup for the third year in a row, Harry's performance degraded with each successive game.  
  
"NO!" bellowed Ron, putting his foot down at the very thought. "Harry, you are NOT quitting!"  
  
It wasn't helping Harry's decision at all that snow was pelting him in the face.  
  
"Okay," said Harry brightly. "I won't quit."  
  
He knew this would confuse Ron and by the look on his face, it did. There was a moment of silence before... on the inside --  
  
"I wish Quidditch kept me distracted but for some reason, an annoying image of something white floating a few inches above Sirius' dead body keeps popping into my head. I'd like to see you concentrate with that," he coldly added, turning on his heel, dropping the Golden Snitch and heading back to the castle.  
  
After all, he needed to go to Diviniation and hear Professor Trelawney's latest prediction on his death. As he climbed the ladder up to the steamy, perfurmed classroom, Professor Trelawney looked upon him, her stupid glasses enlarging her already putrid nose well beyond normal proportions.  
  
"If you're going to tell me that I'm going to die," said Harry furiously, his temper getting the best of him, "at least be right this time. I'm getting sick of waiting."  
  
The horizon never looked darker and the Order of Merlin plaque no longer provided any relief.  
  
"Maybe if you hold it tighter?" Hermione suggested over lunch.  
  
"Nope," said Harry, holding it so tight he felt it cutting into his fingers. "Better order thirty two of them, one for each hand and year."  
  
"It's been fifteen years, Harry," said Hermione curtly. "You'd only need thirty."  
  
"No, sixteen," said Harry defiantly. "I've decided that I didn't like the first year, either."  
  
It took a moment for Hermione to understand that what Harry meant was that now he decided he didn't like the first year of his life. As usual, Hermione reacted by tutting loudly and going back to what she was doing. In this case, that meant eating. Harry looked up to see what the sky was doing. Maybe if he got it off his mind for a minute, he could possibly forget about it all together? No, he concluded. Although the snow piling on top of the ceiling of the Great Hall looked pretty enough, there was just no comparing it to... other stuff.  
  
Christmas neared. Decorations in the castle were starting to sprout up, mistletoe being placed in strategic spots around the castle. Harry tried for dear life this year to avoid being caught under any with any girls. This was a requirement, as Cho had finally made a grand appearance but she totally ignored Harry at all costs, deciding instead to hide behind a group of Ravenclaw girls, giggling as they swept passed.  
  
"Best not to keep things bottled up," Madam Rosmerta had said, and Harry certainly wasn't denying anyone of the fact at how miserable he felt. Harry thought to conveniently forget the words in between and instead concentrate on "If she really loves you, she'll come back." Why did Madam Rosmerta have to use the 'L' word? There wasn't any truth to what she said, Harry told himself. Sure, he got some strange feelings in his stomach those few weeks with Cho, coupled with a swelling happiness, but it wasn't... that... was it?  
  
Harry had to admit, despite his mood, the humongous snow-covered Christmas trees in the Great Hall, bedecked with everything from hollies to hooting owls and... pictures of famous wizards and witches of the age, were a sight to behold. Ron pointed out Harry's own picture to him, guessing what he would do... and Harry quickly pulled it off and pocketed it, to later throw in a fire. The only problem with this was that, when they had left the Great Hall that breakfast and returned for lunch, there was another picture of Harry. Either Professor Trelawney predicted Harry would do such a thing... or it was just painfully obvious. He suspected the latter as Professor Trelawney couldn't even predict his death properly, as she had been doing incorrectly for three years now.  
  
And true to her word, Mrs. Weasley had sent the family owl, Errol, with a letter to both Ron and Harry.  
  
Ron and Harry,  
  
Hope you're having a great time. Just wanted to remind Harry that we'd be glad to have him stay with us for Christmas vacation. Professor Dumbledore said it would be perfectly fine and if anything Ginny tells us is true, you're coming, Harry or we're going to drag you here ourselves.  
  
Have a lovely day,  
Mrs. Weasley  
  
Harry always knew Mrs. Weasley to be a kind and gentle lady but when she wanted to be forceful, there was no one more mean except perhaps Professor Snape. He supposed it would be a good idea to spend one Christmas among friends and psuedo family and so when the time came to sign his name on the list of students staying at Hogwarts for the holidays, Professor McGonagall had asked twice whether Harry had forgotten to sign. And, for the first time in months, he giggled when she walked off the second time. Hermione caught the sound of it and giggled back but Harry quickly kept the rest of his giggling to himself, not wanting Hermione to think he resigned from thinking about Sirius -- among other things -- and putting on a face to match.  
  
For the first time ever, Harry (and Ron, too, for that matter), boarded the Hogwarts Express to go home -- or at least the place Harry would like to be able to call home. The train ride was uneventful. Many, many students were surprised to see Harry on the train as most everyone in the school knew he spent each Christmas at Hogwarts. After finally hearing the last of the "You're going back to the Dursleys'?" to which he would reply "Whatever potions you've been making and drinking, please, by all means, let me have some," and being forced by Hermione to not sleep the entire time, Harry succumbed to talking -- talking about one of his least favorite subjects: going home to see your relatives.  
  
It had the strange effect on Harry, hearing about Hermione's aunts, uncles, grandmothers and grandfathers (all of whom were still alive) and how they would be staying at her parents' house, of sparking a little bit of holiday cheer into him. He recalled, however vaguely, his first encounters with the Mirror of Erised. Perhaps it was the effect Hermione wanted; Ron saw it too. Harry went on and on about the people in the mirror with green eyes like his, noses like his and the old man with his knobbly knees. Hermione shed a tear when Harry said, in detail, how he reached a hand behind him while looking in the mirror towards the woman he knew to be his mom and, as they already knew, only felt air.  
  
Harry silently slipped back into gloom, though not as bad as before, as he realized how horrible it was to only know what his relatives looked like because he happened to find a mirror that showed what the on-looker's heart wanted most. He sat silently, ignoring the words coming out of Hermione's mouth ("Look at me, Harry. Okay, look at my finger. No... just great, fine, keep staring at that finger then, I don't mind" -- and she made it more visible -- "Honestly..."), recalling the nightmares of his parents disappearing in a flash of green light while a voice cackled with laughter.  
  
Mrs. Weasley's first reaction to Harry was to wrap him in a great two-armmed hug shouting, "Harry!" She oddly neglected her own two children returning for Christmas which made it obvious she was going to try her very best to cheer Harry up. He wouldn't object; it was something.  
  
They had dinner, talked for a bit about the previous term, Harry making sure to give plenty of details on the detestful Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons ("THEY'RE ACTUALLY DOING THAT?" bellowed Mr. Weasley; "THE NERVE!" shouted Mrs. Weasley) and turned in for the night.  
  
Harry had an excellent dream. He was standing in his parents' house in Godric's Hollow and both of them fell out of the tip of his wand, which, when he looked down at it, looked nothing like a wand at all. It was long and golden, several feet in length. He couldn't say exactly how long, but it was longer than he was tall. At the top, there was the mouth of a skunk holding a pure white crystal and attached to the mouth, there was the body of a squirrel making up the handle of what was, unmistakably, a staff. At the end, the squirrel's tail finished it.  
  
Lily and James Potter fell out as shadows, just as they had done during a Priori Incantatem two years ago when Harry's wand was forced to duel against Voldemort's wand. They said hello and hugged him. His mom said she would wash Harry' socks and then she went into the kitchen with her husband to make breakfast. Harry sat on a couch and turned on the television to hear that a man named Tom Marvolo Riddle had been mysteriously killed. The news cast said, aside from the fact that he was dead, he appeared to be in perfect health.  
  
"There was no sign of strangling," said the newscaster, "no poison found in his blood, no evidence of broken bones, internal bleeding, bullet holes or anything, for that matter, except, as shown here, a look of horror on his face."  
  
The Harry in the dream stared, swelling with joy, into the terrified, dead face of Lord Voldemort for a long time before waking up all on his own to find his living counterpart to be smiling as well. His dream had shown him what he wished he could have at the moment but a throbbing pain in his temple, which for a terrifying second he had confused for a pain in his scar, prevented him from persuing the thought. He was tired, tired of wanting... but not getting... tired of hoping but never seeing. And then another thought came to him. Hadn't his dreams usually predicted what was going to happen, if not what was happening at that very moment?  
  
Yes, Harry thought, they had but he was not going to get a staff for as long as he lived (or at least until he was eighteen). Furthermore, his parents certainly weren't going to just drop out of it and go make breakfast. The very idea made the feeling of half joy, half terrible sadness that Harry had experienced when first seeing the Mirror of Erised slowly creep back to him -- and it was just as unpleasant as last time.  
  
Taking a quick peek at the window showed him the night sky which meant that he should go back to sleep. Rain battered the windows like a thousand Blast-Ended Skrewts firing all at once while thunder pierced his ears. Harry wondered how he could have ever managed to sleep through all of it. The worst part of it was that all the snow would become slush, leaving no snowballs to throw at anyone. Within a few minutes though, Harry's snores echoed along with Ron's.  
  
In the morning, he explained the dream to Ron, who didn't know what to make of it.  
  
"Really, Harry, they're not going to just... fall out of a staff," said Ron.  
  
But Harry had failed to mention that the staff he saw was the one Mr. Ollivander had described. Then he came to the conclusion that he only saw it because it looked like the most powerful magical item he had ever seen and that it would certainly be able to bring back the dead. But, after all was said and done, it was pointless, really.  
  
By midday, Ron had apparently taken it upon himself to spread Harry's dream to each member of the Weasley family. Harry had mixed feelings. It was nice that, knowing he would never be able to bring himself to tell that dream to anyone, Ron made Harry stick to his word to Sirius. Harry was also furious at the idea that Ron had actually told anyone such a thing. No doubt Hermione would be catching word of it soon enough.  
  
"You're welcome to stay with us any time, dear," said Mrs. Weasley while at the same time, offering him another glass of orange juice.  
  
"Thanks," said Harry, taking it, but the thanks wasn't for the offer to stay with them, it was for the orange juice.  
  
His spirits continued on a steady rise, being surrounded by people that, where a heart ache in the pit of his stomach (recently replaced by a slowly growing happiness) reminded him, were more than just friends. At first, Harry liked it when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley said "good morning" and asked "how are you?" When Harry replied "okay," they only wanted to make sure that he really was okay but it started to get monotonous. It seemed they had all forgotten about Harry's dream, or did they just make a note not to mention it? Or was that Hermione's idea?  
  
On Christmas day, Harry awoke to a mound of presents at the foot of his bed. Ron had already gone down to breakfast so, Harry guessed, he could open his presents in peace.  
  
The first parcel he snatched was small, about the size of his hand. He ripped the paper off it and opened it. Inside was a card -- from Hermione -- and a new sneakoscope! She must have felt bad for not being able to fix the one that Ron had given Harry some years ago as a birthday present. It wasn't her fault, though. Harry was the one who broke it.  
  
The Dursleys were the only ones who would send a Christmas present covered in plain white paper. Harry opened it and inside it, not surprisingly, was a card with a single five pound bill inside it. It was an improvement in many ways and he didn't expect to get anything from them worth more than that without Sirius.  
  
A third parcel, thin and long, was easily predictable. Harry opened it to find another Weasley sweater: dark red with a golden letter H embroidered in the center. But something caught his eye on the weaving of the letter.  
  
Harry took a closer look and saw that the Hogwarts coat of arms was knitted at all four corners of the letter complete with the snake, the eagle, the badger and the lion. Mrs. Weasley must have had some help with that.  
  
One present was fairly large. It was covered in gold and scarlet paper with a silver ribbon on top of it. Harry pulled it off and clawed the paper open. What was inside made him not believe his eyes.  
  
It was a Pensieve. He picked it up and looked all over it. It was much newer than Dumbledore's. The strange runes on the sides were much more visible... even though Harry still didn't know what they said. The stone making it up was much cleaner and smoother to the touch. Aside from the Pensive itself, the only other thing inside was a note.  
  
You might find a use for this very soon.  
  
To use it, think of what you want to  
remove and put your wand to your  
forehead, just under your bangs.  
Twirl your wand to collect the  
thought while concentrating on  
extracting it from your forehead.  
  
If you happen to find yourself  
inside your Pensieve, I'm sure  
you'll find out how to get out on  
your own.  
  
You may not get it for a few weeks,  
as it took me a few hours of trying  
to get it at first.  
  
Happy Christmas  
  
There was no name but only Professor Dumbledore would have sent it. Five years ago he anonymously sent Harry his dad's Invisibility Cloak so who's to say he wouldn't send a Pensieve as well? Currently, Harry had no use for it. He wanted his bad thoughts to stay right where they were so he could be reminded that he was responsible for his current situation...  
  
The last was smaller than any of the others. Harry's heart sank. Who would send him something barely half an inch high and about three wide? He casted it aside, having had enough of small presents, throwing it on top of his bed. Maybe he would open it before he went to bed that night. Yes, that's what he would do. All that would be inside would be a letter from the Dursleys telling him to stay at the Weasley's for Easter as well. Perhaps a note asking for the money they sent in the other box back. They usually sent bigger boxes, but as they spent a good few hundred pounds on Harry last year, they needed to make up for the loss.  
  
Harry looked all over his presents and realized that Hagrid had not sent him something. Hagrid would not be the one to have put something in that small package, he never sent anything smaller than what would be able to hold food or a biting book. No big deal, really... Harry had next to ignored Hagrid for the most part this year. Probably Hagrid's way of reminding Harry of the fact.  
  
Down at breakfast --  
  
"Harry, did you open all your presents?" asked Mrs. Weasley pleasantly.  
  
"All but one," said Harry, sticking two pieces of toast in the toaster. He pushed the handle down and was very surprised when it popped up not a second later, browned just the way he liked it. "Professor Dumbledore sent me a Pensieve."  
  
"A Pensieve?" said Mr. Weasley incredulously. "He thinks you can manage to use it?"  
  
"What's so hard?" said Harry, shrugging. "He told me to just concentrate on removing a thought with my wand to my forehead."  
  
"Harry, I have trouble using one," said Mr. Weasley matter-of-factly. "And only wizards who have had a lot of practice with them don't need to bother using a spell to get the thought onto your wand."  
  
"Dumbledore doesn't use a spell," said Harry without thinking. Mr. Weasley stared at him and instantly, Harry realized what he just said was dumb. Dumbledore, of course, is the greatest wizard of their time.  
  
"Someone sent me an anonymous letter telling me to make sure you opened all your presents," said Ron, looking sideways at Harry.  
  
"Really?" said Harry sarcastically. "Want me to make sure I got both miserable presents from the Dursleys, do they?"  
  
Harry watched as Mrs. Weasley flinched. She always kept to making bad remarks about them to herself but she always made a face at one of their names.  
  
"Both?" asked Ron.  
  
"Yeah. They sent me some Muggle money -- very little of it, mind you -- and another small box which I didn't open. It's just a letter telling me to stay here for Easter, too or asking for the money back. Oh and Hagrid didn't send me anything," Harry added, taking a seat between Ron and Fred, ignoring strange looks from Ginny.  
  
"We did sort of ignore him..." said Ron darkly.  
  
"Must be his way of reminding me," said Harry.  
  
"Now, now," said Mrs. Weasley pleasantly, "don't go blaming yourself. He probably just forgot, with what Pettigrew lurking about the castle and all. I tell you, I still don't see why Professor Dumbledore lets him stay," she added, getting up and handing Harry the butter, which he had forgotten (he was eating his toast plain). "You're becoming more forgetful every day, dear."  
  
Harry rolled his eyes.  
  
"Why don't you three take Ginny and go do something? You're going to rot if you sit inside another day," said Mrs. Weasley.  
  
That night, Harry tossed the small package from the Dursleys into the trash.  
  
Ron convinced Harry to play games of Quidditch with Fred, George, Ginny and Hermione in the Weasley paddock. Without realizing it, the six of them stayed for several hours the first day, throwing a Quaffle around and a Snitch that, at first sight, resembled Fire Quidditch's Spiked Snitch. Upon catching it, however, it squirted you in the face with fake blood (the blades were made of rubber).  
  
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley agreed it was very "distasteful" but Harry found it amusing. Fred refused to accept the twelve sickles that Harry insisted on paying. George then shoved a wand in Harry's face (which unbeknownst to Harry was a trick wand) that turned into a full-size basilisk before disappearing in a flash of white light. Seizing Harry's confusion ("GEORGE!" Harry bellowed furiously), Fred stuffed the Snitch into Harry's pocket. Harry scowled... but was later laughing himself hoarse.  
  
The skies dropped more snow that night, providing plenty of white stuff for the snowball fight. Fred and George had the idea. Harry and Ron had been doing their own planning for days since the twins mentioned it. But it wasn't just a fight. It was a war.  
  
Hermione and Ginny refused to participate after Hermione walked in on Harry and Ron going over strategies (where to hit, how hard to throw, arcing the ball...). Ginny originally wanted to be on Harry's team.  
  
And then the day came. It was on the last day of Christmas vacation.  
  
In preparation for becoming colder than they ever thought possible, Harry and Ron packed on extra layers of clothing while Fred and George most likely did the same in another room (the four were preparing in secrecy). Harry and Ron put on two pairs of pants each (both of them did find it difficult to put jeans on over another pair of jeans), three thick, woolen shirts, dragon hide gloves and the thickest pair of socks they could find. Ron wore his dad's dragon hide boots and Harry wore his own dragon hide boots. Giving Ron his dad's Warmth Cloak (Ron assured Harry that it could only hold out so much before starting to fail, and Fred agreed to it -- "We're going to win anyway, you know"), he nodded to Ron, who nodded back, and the pair of them exited Ron's room. Harry also agreed to let Ginny wear the Invisibility Cloak so that George wouldn't "accidently" mistake her for the enemy.  
  
And then the time came, just before dinner.  
  
"Ready, Fred?" Harry called.  
  
He and Ron were in the Weasley paddock once again, Bill and Charlie separating them, by several feet, from Fred and George, all of whom were staring at the biggest pile of snow nearest to themself. Ginny was standing, invisible, next to Harry. Hermione was on the sidelines.  
  
"Ready!" George shouted back.  
  
Harry stared at a particularly large lump of snow at his foot, rocking his fingers back and forth in anticipation to grab it and chuck it at Fred's nose for saying he was going to win. Harry had made sure to lace up his boots tightly as he had had too much experience with snow soaking his socks, making them even more unbearable. It was still snowing lightly, assurance that the snow wouldn't melt any time soon. Currently, he was feeling warm, covered under several layers of clothing. Ron was sure to be toasty for a long period of time. How would Fred and George ever make Ron want to stop?  
  
"You don't reckon they have some tricks up their sleeves, do you?" Ron whispered to Harry.  
  
"Just remember what we went over, okay?" Harry whispered back. Ron gave him a quick nod.  
  
Bill and Charlie stepped off the battlefield. Bill put a hand out, hand closed in a fist and shouted, "One the count of three! One..." -- he put up finger -- "two..." -- and another finger -- "THREE!" -- putting the last finger out then dashed quickly behind Hermione.  
  
Within seconds, the air was consumed by snowballs flying every which way. Ron threw several at his twin brothers, missing many times. Harry, in a desperate attempt to not freeze (Ron was not enjoying himself, snow lined the necks of his sweaters) skillfully dodged several snowballs from Fred and George. It was the ones thrown from Harry that made the biggest splash, literally.  
  
"Ouch, Harry!" shouted George, rubbing between his eyes. Harry grinned.  
  
George tried several times to get Harry back for the snowball between the eyes but failed. While Harry and Ron were throwing at Fred and George randomly, it took a few minutes for Harry to realize that --  
  
"Ron, they're aiming mostly for you," Harry whispered in Ron's ear.  
  
"Can't you see the big splotch of water down my front?" he whispered back. "And this cloak is no longer helping. My fingers are becoming numb."  
  
Ron was slowing down as he became colder and colder. His lips turned blue, as did Harry's, Fred's and George's but they all fought tooth and nail. Ron took several snowballs at once to his chest and stomach and a well placed one that landed square on his nose made him step aside and leave Harry to his dirty work.  
  
"Might as well give up, Harry!" Fred taunted.  
  
"Not until my hand freezes and falls off," Harry said. He turned to Ron and said quietly, "Although that may happen sooner than I think. They're freezing."  
  
Using both hands to dig up piles and toss them, it wasn't long before George stepped off. Now with blue fingertips and no feeling left in his right hand, Harry only had to make Fred give up. That was a very daunting task.  
  
"Give it up!" Fred yelled.  
  
Fred must have spotted the motherload of snow mounds because he turned around. Harry took the time to carefully aim a big, tightly packed snowball. He threw it as hard as possible and...  
  
SPLAT!  
  
Fred, bending down, supported by the balls of his feet, tumbled over, snow in his ear and sinking down into his shirts. Fred gave up at this, as his ear was no longer working properly since after ten minutes in. Ron and Harry cheered. Fred and George, having learned how to Disapparate in Harry, Ron and Ginny's absence, bought Harry and Ron a free dinner from the Leaky Cauldron.  
  
"Must be great to be able to Disapparate," said Ron gloomily.  
  
"Is ickle Ronnie-kins jealous?" said George.  
  
"Shut up!" Ron shouted.  
  
"Boys, boys," said Mrs. Weasley, casually striding in. "Ron, dear, you'll be Disapparating soon enough. Just one more year to go after this and you can apply for the test. You too, Harry," she added, noticing him. She walked back into the kitchen and returned with a platter holding four cups. "Now, all of you should take a cup of hot cocoa. I don't know what possessed you six -"  
  
"Four," said Ginny.  
  
"- to go have a snowball fight when it's still snowing!" shouted Mrs. Weasley, sound very distressed that they decided to have a snowball fight when they have to return to Hogwarts the next morning. "Drink up and eat. Fred, you're not going anywhere until you can hear me yelling in your ear. Ron, don't move until your nose is no longer blue and Harry," she added, trying to sound somewhat more pleasant, "I suggest you stay put until your hands thaw out." Such were the injuries of war and Harry and Ron stood (sat) victorious.  
  
"Did you like that snowball between the eyes?" said Harry, grinning.  
  
"Blimey, Harry. Where'd you learn to throw like that?" said George.  
  
"And my ear is still stinging," Fred said, cupping it.  
  
"Who knows," said Harry indifferently, shrugging. "I threw one of those 'POTTER STINKS' badges at Ron two years ago. Hit him on the forehead right where my scar would be."  
  
"Hey, your father was a Chaser," said Ron without thinking. "He had to have a good arm!"  
  
"Yeah," said Harry, suddenly having a mood change. Ron had said the magic word. "My dad..."  
  
He watched as Hermione shot Ron a furious look. Harry pretended to not be trying to listen in as Hermione whispered to Ron, "You shouldn't have said that! You dunderhead!"  
  
At that moment, Mrs. Weasley came back in to collect their cups.  
  
"I'm going to bed," said Harry, standing up and brushing the last bit of snow out of his hair.  
  
Fred, George and Ron looked at each other. It was only eight o'clock. When Harry was out of earshot, Mrs. Weasley exploded into a tirade, having heard what happened from none other than Hermione.  
  
"DIDN'T YOUR FATHER AND I MAKE IT CLEAR THAT THERE WERE TWO MORE PEOPLE THAT WE NOT ONLY DIDN'T NAME BUT WE ALSO DIDN'T SPEAK OF?" she shouted furiously. It was so loud that Harry could swear he just opened a Howler. "HIS GODFATHER'S GOOD AS DEAD AND YOU GO REMINDING HIM OF WHAT WE TRIED SO HARD TO MAKE HIM PUT ASIDE FOR AS LONG AS POSSIBLE! Now I have to go say something to him. And I have absolutely no idea what!"  
  
So that was what the snowball fight was all about. Mr. or Mrs. Weasley must have thought it up. Harry pondered that for a bit as he changed into pajamas, waiting for Mrs. Weasley, whose voice had now become too quiet to hear. Harry pulled out the only record he had of his parents from his trunk: a photo album. The pictures covering the walls of Ron's room of Ron's favorite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons, were barely interesting right now, even as someone managed to throw the Quaffle between three Chasers from the other team... and score.  
  
Pigwidgeon fluttering around in his cage didn't distract Harry either and Harry barely opened the front cover of the album when Mrs. Weasley's footsteps echoed up the hallway and the door creaked opened. She poked her head inside, looking very tense and still thinking, noticeable by the way her upper and lower lips were curled inward so you couln't see them and the stare she gave Harry. Then she walked inside, her lips separating as she made her way towards Harry, who was sitting on his bed.  
  
"I know you miss them," she said softly. "We all do. Very good people, your parents were. Did anyone ever tell you what they did for a living?"  
  
An explosion took place in Harry's stomach and blurted out, "Weren't they Aurors?" before he could stop himself.  
  
"That evil Michelle woman wasn't being entirely truthful," said Mrs. Weasley, her voice sprinkled with disgust. "I suppose I could tell you then."  
  
Harry never listened harder.  
  
"Lily was likely to become a Paladin, excelled greatly in the healing and restorative arts. She made Madam Pomfrey look like she didn't know what she was doing and best of all, Lily didn't shoo people out of the patients' rooms."  
  
She stared dreamily up at the ceiling above Harry and continued unabated. "It's funny. You wondered how you could do several Charms so well. The Summoning Charm during the Triwizard Tournament and very notably, the Patronus Charm. Your mother had a natural flair for Charms and had a wand to match!  
  
"James, on the other hand, took pride in his talent with transfiguration. Took him five years to become an Animagus but he was top of his class in Transfiguration. I don't recall his line of work as he took up professional Quidditch for a good part of his years after graduating Hogwarts.  
  
"Do try to put them at ease, Harry. Bad moods are contagious, you know. If you're miserable any longer than I fear Professor Snape will became meaner! We always do miss the ones we love," she said in a manner that made it sound like she was saying it for herself too. Or was Harry just imagining that? "Keep them in your heart, Harry," said Mrs. Weasley, looking at Harry again. "Never forget... but accept what happened and let it make you stronger, not weaker."  
  
Dumbledore must have been giving Mrs. Weasley lessons on how to make Harry feel slightly better but confused. Mrs. Weasley gave Harry a light hug, stood up, crossed the room and exited, closing the door behind her. Her "comforting" words didn't last long, not when he would never forget that Sirius died due to his, Harry's, own stupidity.  
  
Stupid parents, Harry thought, opening up to the first photo, staring at them, holding Harry as a baby. If they just stayed alive, none of this would have happened. As if the loss of them wasn't bad enough, Sirius had to go and die as well and worse yet, due to Harry. "Tragic losses so young in life," the voice of someone said in the back of his head. Tragic losses throughout his life, Harry thought miserably...  
  
Before he knew what his hands were doing, they had torn the photo album down the middle and ripped a page in two, separating his mom and dad. When he did realize what they were doing, he helped them finish their work. He didn't stop until not a page remained in one piece.  
  
Harry didn't sleep well that night. Possibly it was because he tried to fall asleep at eight thirty or it could have been because he had several haunting dreams involving green lights and people dying. It became official: Harry felt just as bad, if not worse, than he had before he had come to the Weasley home. At least there was nothing involving Voldemort and a pain in his scar... but that made Harry think of more unpleasant thoughts: Wormtail, Dumbledore and the Book of Memories. 


	17. A Decision Solidified

Chapter 17: A DECISION SOLIDIFIED  
  
Harry, Ron and Ginny packed up the next morning. Mrs. Weasley forced Harry to give her the torn pages of his photo album but didn't say what she was going to do with them. He felt miserable for tearing it to shreds and felt worse, after having slept on it, for blaming his parents for anything. After all, they sacrificed themselves to keep him alive. It was silly to think they had a choice.  
  
Heart still gradually sinking, he followed Ron and Ginny quietly onto the Hogwarts Express and sat, sullen-faced and quiet, for the entire ride. Hermione, at least, tried to cheer Harry up.  
  
Ron, thoughtless as usual, had said the 'd' word (dad) on the train ride. Upon arriving at Hogwarts, Harry's only wish was to have something to take his mind off of Sirius and as he tried to come up with something, he quickly started to think nothing would.  
  
His first night back at Hogwarts, Harry found the small, grubby Christmas parcel he had thrown out sitting on top of his bed. The Dursleys must have sent another one and so he threw it away again. They would give up eventually if he ignored it. Probably wanted a reply back or something... he became more convinced they wanted the money they sent him back. Eventually, they would stop because they would have spent it all on sending boxes to him.  
  
Dobby had also left a present on top of Harry's bed. Inside it was none other than another pair of mismatched socks. This time one was scarlet with golden lions, the other golden, with scarlet lions. Harry stuffed them into the bottom of his trunk, vowing to never wear them.  
  
To add to Harry's list of problems, Malfoy had begun to take up annoying Harry once again. Apparently Malfoy just needed Christmas break to cheer him up again. Harry, for a moment, thought someone might have put a Memory Charm on Malfoy to make him forget the incident. It was possible, but it was also a little ridiculous.  
  
"Had a dream of your parents rising from the dead, have you, Potter?" he said nastily to Harry during the start of Care of Magical Creatures. The door of Hagrid's hut opened and out came Hagrid himself.  
  
"Now, now, Malfoy. Wouldn't want ter upset him because he might just not feel like savin' yer life next time," said Hagrid, pleased with himself. "I can on'y imagine how much that sword woulda hurt..."  
  
Harry wanted to smile to show his appreciation but the muscles in his face forgot how to do it. He compromised by sticking his tongue out at Malfoy who had the smile wiped off his pale, pointed face.  
  
"Today's the day," said Hagrid apprehensively. "Yeh might not like it much but Professor Dumbledore asked me ter to do it so I haven't got much choice." Hagrid rolled his eyes. "I don't like sayin' this either but... Professor Dumbledore has a strong feeling You-Know-Who will... before the year's end."  
  
"Wonder why," Harry whispered to Hermione and Ron, rolling his eyes too.  
  
"And he said that our least favorite creatures, dementors, are goin' ter be with him. He asked me ter show yeh the Patronus Charm. Me only problem is -- er -- Professor Moody can' make it. He's at the Ministry o' Magic offices fer the day and this can't wait. So," -- and he turned to Harry -- "Harry?"  
  
Harry, who currently thought he couldn't conjure a Patronus to scare even Neville away, pulled out his wand and separated from Ron and Hermione, fully aware of the eyes watching him.  
  
"I know yeh got lots o' practice with the Patronus Charm (I mean yeh conjured a Patronus ter scare away more than a hundred of 'em...), Harry, so yeh were Dumbledore's second choice." He bent down and whispered in Harry's ear, "Why don't yeh think of... think of how happy yeh were on yer birthday this year. That should work."  
  
Right, Harry thought, he was supposed to change his mood from feeling the worst he ever felt the happiest he ever felt in the blink of an eye. Hagrid had lost his marbles but after Hagrid finished whispering, he asked Harry to show everyone how to conjure a Patronus along with a little background information. Then another thought came wizzing from the back of his head: Professor Lupin's dementor lessons and how determined Harry was to learn to be able to scare dementors off. With that in mind...  
  
"All right," said Harry, trying to think of everything Professor Lupin had said. "Dementors are basically soulless, insolent prats that don't like you being happy," he said coldly. "When you get too near one, they suck all your happy thoughts from you leaving you with just the bad ones and it's that that makes you feel like... when you're around them."  
  
As Harry was speaking, Hagrid was walking in and out of his hut with huge boxes of chocolate. Harry had the sick feeling that Hagrid also had dementors... but he continued without letting on.  
  
"To scare them away, you use the Patronus Charm. When it works, it conjures an animal, different for everyone." At that, Harry had to fight back his subconscious trying to make him remember what his Patronus was. "The Patronus reflects your happiest thought and to make one, you have to think of a really happy memory and say 'Expecto Patronum.'"  
  
"Well go on, Harry!" said Hagrid, beaming. "Demonstrate!"  
  
Harry shot Hagrid a look of great contempt. What was going to make him actually feel any better? Hagrid's suggestion was the only thing that came to mind but he still didn't think it would work. Harry pointed his wand at some space between Parvati Patil and Pansy Parkinson, trying to dig up the thought of how half a million people had come to his sixteenth birthday, the huge birthday cake and all the talk about Lily and James into his head.  
  
"Expecto Patronum!" he shouted. Barely more than a puff of silvery white mist came out of the tip of his wand. Harry remembered that that was he got when he first started learning the Patronus Charm. "Well it worked twice," said Harry, shrugging. He knew why it didn't work. Sirius was too strong an unhappy memory.  
  
"Try again!" Hagrid insisted.  
  
"Expecto Patronum," said Harry lazily, not even bothering to think of anything. Another small mist of silvery white stuff shot out of the tip of his wand.  
  
"Er -- okay," said Hagrid, slightly dejected. He had obviously counted on Harry conjuring a huge Patronus for the class to gap and awe at but that was obviously not going to happen. The class continued -- and ended -- with everyone taking notes on how to conjure a Patronus and practicing. No one, not even Hermione, got beyond making one or two silvery white sparks in the air. Even feeling so terrible, Harry could still manage to get closer to a real Patronus.  
  
"What," said Malfoy coldly to Harry as they went back to the castle (out of Hagrid's hearing, naturally), "the thought of your dead godfather too overbearing to make a Patronus?"  
  
"You know, Hagrid was right," Harry started coolly. "If you're about to die again I may just not be there to save your skin."  
  
Malfoy's eyes reduced to slits and he beckoned his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, toward him and into the castle doors. Harry spat, hitting the back of Malfoy's shoe. Hermione looked at Harry like he just said a disgusting swear word. Ron laughed. Malfoy never found out what happened.  
  
"I've just got to go to the bathroom," said Harry the next day.  
  
It was just before Potions. Harry couldn't help it but he would make sure to not be late for Snape's class. Snape's decision as of late to totally ignore Harry's presence, an improvement in many ways, was not to be ruined.  
  
"Go on," Harry said. "I'll catch up."  
  
"All right," said Ron. "We're taking notes on Mind-Blanker Potions."  
  
"Yes, I know, go to class," said Harry hotly.  
  
Ron looked like Harry just insulted him and strode off with Hermione towards the dungeons. Harry set off towards the boy's bathroom. On the way, though, he heard someone's voice from inside an empty classroom.  
  
"Yes," said the voice. "I have it."  
  
Immediately thinking of the Book of Memories, Harry stopped dead in his tracks and stood beside the door, out of sight of whoever was inside.  
  
"He'll not get it," it said. "I'll just... just take it... and..."  
  
Harry straightened up with fear, suddenly realizing who it was: Wormtail.  
  
"- it'll all be over fast," the voice quivered. It sounded mad, slightly psychotic (a perfect fit for Wormtail, Harry thought). "I - I'll bring it to you!" Wormtail then lowered to a whisper. "He - he will be pleased... yes... he will... or he would have been... had he been on our side... but that will never happen."  
  
Harry heard something close, something that sounded too much like a book for Harry's comfort. He had no doubts that the "he" of whom Wormtail was speaking was Harry and that he wouldn't be pleased because Wormtail was going to bring the book to Voldemort... Many, many words mixed around in Harry's mind -- many of them he probably shouldn't say -- waiting to be shouted at Dumbledore as loud as Harry could manage it. This was the proof Harry needed, the proof that Wormtail was planning on stealing the book all along.  
  
The door opened and in it's frame, stood Wormtail, shorter, paler and more pathetic than ever before, a smile on his face.  
  
"Peter!" said Harry cheerily, his eyes wide with sarcastic happiness. "How are you!"  
  
This had the effect of making Wormtail's smile drop faster than dead dragons out of the sky. Harry could see the Book of Memories clutched tightly in Wormtail's arms and it caused an uneasy feeling of writhing snakes in Harry's insides. He stared blankly at it, totally ignoring Wormtail, before --  
  
"F-f-fine!" quivered Wormtail. "J-Just fine!"  
  
"Going somewhere with that?" said Harry suspiciously.  
  
"Just, bringing it to... Now, i-if you'll excuse me, James..."  
  
"James?" said Harry, his brow furrowed and his blank eyes traveling from the book to Wormtail's scared, shaking face. He better be scared, Harry thought to himself, if he's going to try to steal it under my nose. But... why had Wormtail called me by my dad's name...  
  
"Harry, then," said Wormtail hastily and he shot out of the doorway and down the corridor. Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at Wormtail.  
  
"Stupefy!" he shouted. A jet of light shot out of Harry's wand, moving very fast and hit his target square in the back.  
  
Wormtail crumpled to the floor, the Book of Memories gliding a few feet beyond his outstretched hand. That was it. Now all he needed was Dumbledore to hear the story and Wormtail would be thrown out. Harry took a deep breath, wiping a drop of sweat off his brow. Harry walked towards the book. He picked it up and instantly --  
  
His eyes forced themselves shut and blackness drowned any colors he could have hoped to see. A loud, terrible and extremely brief scream from a woman filled Harry's ears. The sound was so loud, so painfully loud that it caused Harry's head to jerk and when it finished, he saw a flash of Voldemort's face. It looked determined and fierce, satisfied and very happy, making Harry feel like he was just in another snowball fight. Voldemort's wand was pointed at Harry, except that Harry was not big at all -- he was about the size of a baby. And there was a dead woman on the floor with green eyes.  
  
Before he could see or hear anymore, Harry's grip on the book loosened without a second thought and it hit the floor with a thud. Had he held on any longer, he might have seen it: how Voldemort got blasted the first time. Or was that just another one of his crazy thoughts? He stood for a minute, completely forgetting what he was doing standing in the middle of a corridor, Wormtail unconscious and the Book of Memories at his feet, his wand still out. He stared into space, dazed.  
  
Just then, Harry heard footsteps and the next second, coming towards him was Dumbledore. He was walking, but he caught sight of Wormtail and his walk broke into a run.  
  
"HARRY!" he shouted.  
  
Harry mindlessly bent down and picked up the book again to show Dumbledore. Harry's eyes were forced shut once more and this time he saw a heart-wrenchingly brief image of his mom staring lovingly at him. The two of them were up in Harry's dormitory. Once again, his hand loosened it's grip due to shock and the book hit the floor. He shook his head rapdily to get rid of the thought.  
  
Harry frantically pointed between the book and Wormtail saying stupidly, "He try steal book! He try steal book!"  
  
"Go to class, Harry," said Dumbledore flatly.  
  
"Are you mad?" said Harry, coming around. "I heard him saying he was going to bring the book to someone and saying someone else would be happy if he was on his hide. Then he comes out of the room and says 'Excuse me, James'" -- Harry made the same mistake Wormtail made -- "er, 'Harry.'"  
  
"He said James, did he now?" said Dumbledore. Harry could see, amazingly, a sparkle glimmering behind Dumbledore's half-moon spectacles but like it had never done before, it drove Harry mad. At the moment, Harry felt more like cursing every part of Dumbledore, right down to his crooked nose.  
  
"Yeah," said Harry scathingly, forgetting who he was talking to, "so what?"  
  
"Do you know how many times your father caught Peter doing something dumb?"  
  
"DUMB?" Harry bellowed. "He was stealing it to bring to Voldemort!"  
  
At this, several nearby doors opened and many students poked their heads out to see what the commotion was. Harry knew perfectly well most wizards and witches still looked down upon actually saying Voldemort's name but he didn't care much for ettique, currently.  
  
"Go to class, Harry," Dumbledore repeated.  
  
"No," said Harry. "If you'll excuse me, I'll go do what I wanted to do in the first place. If you can imagine, I didn't think I'd run into Pettigrew trying to steal the book."  
  
"And that would be?" asked Dumbledore, holding his hands in front of himself, waiting patiently for the answer.  
  
"If you don't mind," said Harry hotly, turning on his heel and heading towards the bathroom, "I have to pee really bad."  
  
"I don't like Dumbledore," said Harry later that day in the empty Gryffindor common room. He had been going over the situation with Ron and Hermione and it was now a little past midnight. Most everyone with a little common sense was already asleep. Harry had failed to mention what happened when he touched the book, however.  
  
"You've said that a thousand times," said Ron sleepily.  
  
"I know..." said Harry sheepishly, "But I just can't see what Dumbledore's thinking... unless he's helping Voldemort?"  
  
"Oh don't even say that," said Hermione at once. "Harry, I'm starting to worry about you."  
  
"Starting?" said Ron, staring at her like she lost her mind. "I've been worried about him since Sirius. Everyone is. Remember what Professor McGonagall said?"  
  
"What did she say?" said Harry suspiciously. Ron's cheeks went red.  
  
"Her and Dumbledore asked us to try and keep you in good spirits," said Hermione, because Ron didn't feel like saying it. "And they're right!" she insisted.  
  
"Yeah, yeah..." said Harry dismissively.  
  
"Can we go to bed, yet?" Ron asked.  
  
"I'm going down there," said Harry, ignoring Ron.  
  
"Going down where?" Ron asked, standing up to stretch and yawn. He bent down to scratch Crookshanks behind the ears, who purred softly.  
  
"Down those chambers again."  
  
"And?" Hermione asked sternly.  
  
"And what?"  
  
"And what if you see something even worse than your aunt and uncle and the basilisk?"  
  
"I've got my wand and a will to live, don't I?"  
  
Hermione gave Harry a look of pure desperacy that clearly said, "I don't like that idea, not at all."  
  
"You're not stopping me," said Harry sharply. "Pettigrew's not walking out of here alive with that book as long as I'm still alive."  
  
"Don't say that," said Hermione, now deeply concerned.  
  
"Say what? 'As long as I'm still alive?' There, I said it again," Harry taunted.  
  
"Don't go doing anything stupid, Harry!" Hermione pleaded.  
  
"He's not getting it," said Harry determinedly.  
  
"And what are you going to do?" Ron broke in. "Go down there, see something else that scares the daylights out of you? And then what? It's not down there. If it is, I'd like to know how he's getting passed seeing things that scare the daylights out of him, too."  
  
There was a terrible silence.  
  
"I touched the book twice," said Harry at last. "Both times my eyes closed themselves and I had the same unnerving visions I had that summer two years ago. The first time I saw Voldemort trying to kill me when I was one year old and the second I saw my mom looking at me in my dormitory... The book is controlling those things we -- I -- see down there, I know it."  
  
"Great," said Hermione irritably. "And as soon as you figure the bloody thing out you come and tell us." She stood up quickly and stared heatedly at Harry. "I'm going to bed before you come up with an idea to get the three of us killed. Good night." Harry was reminded of a similiar line she had said once before.  
  
"She's right, Harry," said Ron, turning from the now-empty staircase leading to the dormitories to Harry.  
  
"So what?" said Harry, shrugging. "Good night."  
  
Events from the very next day solidified Harry's decision to go down again. Defense Against the Dark Arts was especially irritating. Professor Delacour suggested Harry's scar was a warning and, well, he already knew that.  
  
"I could have told you that," said Harry as he closed his book and rested his head on it.  
  
"It hurts you when?" Professor Delacour asked calmly.  
  
"Whenever Voldemort is around," said Harry and he watched as everyone's head flinched at the name. "And when I have a dream involving him."  
  
"Does it... hurt now?" she asked.  
  
"If he's that close," said Harry, reading her mind, "I'd be holding it, it would hurt so much."  
  
"Has it hurt at all this year?"  
  
Harry thought hard about the answer for that one. Yes, he remembered, it had hurt him twice. Now, should he tell and send the class into hysterics or hide it and let Voldemort come and kill him? The answer was simple.  
  
"Twice," said Harry, feeling all eyes draw upon him. "Once on the train at the start of the year and once during a dream I had at night. Odd though, the dream didn't involve You-Know-Who."  
  
"It seems to me that this scar is connected to You-Know-Who," said Professor Delacour intelligently. "Maybe it is residue from the curse he used and is most likely the spot where the curse hit." She went into deep thought, pacing back and forth in front of her desk. "The curse hits him, rebounds upon You-Know-Who, nearly killing him and the boy gets a scar," she muttered to herself. "It would be interesting to see what would have happened had your parents not gotten in the way," she then said, thinking outloud.  
  
"It would also be interesting to see what would have happened had they not died," said Harry, feeling distinctly hot in the face and unable to stop himself.  
  
Professor Delacour went very white.  
  
There was a silence in which Harry felt the blood rising in his face. Perhaps he should not have said that? He turned to look at Ron and Hermione. Hermione was wearing an expression of utmost sorrow, as though she was restraining herself from comforting him with words or otherwise. If Harry was to be honest with himself, he wouldn't mind it but he would much rather the person be Cho and then he remembered that she wasn't speaking to him.  
  
The bell that rang fifteen seconds later could not be more welcome but Harry had another thing to think of which was most unpleasant. What would life have been like had his parents not have died? He found it very hard, thinking of life with the Dursleys and how much he wished they would disappear (and how he was forced to live with them because his real family had been most viciously taken from him) to hide a tear or three that was itching to come out. He carried it with him all through the day and by dinner, was feeling extra miserable.  
  
"Still thinking of going down there?" Ron asked. Harry felt smiling should be illegal, as Ron was doing plenty of it while munching on his food.  
  
"Yes," said Harry at once.  
  
"All right then," said Ron. "Hermione and I decided we're going so you don't decide to go too far and end up dead."  
  
"And if you must know," Hermione cut in, finishing Ron's thoughts, "we're extremely worried about you."  
  
"You and the rest of the world..." Harry muttered so quietly no one could hear.  
  
"What was that?" Hermione asked.  
  
"I said 'You and the rest of the world'," he repeated angrily.  
  
"You have to put it to rest eventually, Harry," Hermione pleaded. "Sirius isn't coming back -"  
  
"You make it sound SO EASY," said Harry furiously. "The least I can do is get Dumbledore to see the light and have Wormtail kicked out of here. He's insane for letting him stay and even more so after I saw him stealing it!"  
  
"Can't say I don't agree," Hermione said timidly.  
  
"Tonight at eleven," said Harry. "I want to see what's down there even if the book is somewhere else. Maybe there's something I didn't see in the last chamber. I saw the basilisk and just ran like hell."  
  
"As you should have," Hermione snapped.  
  
Harry agreed and, mostly because he felt too miserable, didn't show that he was thankful for Ron and Hermione's concern. He had a burning feeling he was going to see something even more awful this next time. Probably the only thing more frightening than the basilisk was a dementor or Voldemort. Harry shuddered at the thought of the worst experience he ever had with dementors: he had his soul sucked out through his mouth.  
  
So at eleven, when everyone in their right mind finally left the Gryffindor common room and went to bed, Harry snatched his Dragonback, his Invisibility Cloak and what remained of his courage. A lot of it left him during the hour's wait.  
  
"Stragglers," Harry muttered.  
  
"They're doing what we should be doing," Hermione whispered fiercely.  
  
"And that would be?" Harry asked.  
  
"Sleeping!" she hissed.  
  
"Great," said Harry. "Now let's go. I haven't got all night."  
  
Hermione looked as if she might slap Harry for such a remark. She put her hand down from the look on Ron's face (which he hid from Harry). If a picture is worth a thousand words, then Ron's face said "don't get on his bad side," one hundred and sixty-six times. It was a quiet walk to the third floor corridor.  
  
As usual, they hung on to the side of the trap door, all gripping the Dragonback and let go all at once, riding the broom safely to the bottom.  
  
"Lumos!" they all said at once. The light from all their wands made it look like day in the dark, damp dungeons deep below the school.  
  
Harry, not worried about anything at the moment, led the way out of the Devil's Snare room. There was nothing to speak off except a spider on the stone wall that Ron jumped at the sight of. Harry punched it with his fist and wiped the remains off with a little bit of water from his wand.  
  
The flying key rooms yielded nothing but bad memories of what appeared in the next room. Harry had no wish to see the same unnerving scene with Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. He kept wondering whether his aunt really was a witch or whether there happened to be another Petunia Dursley.  
  
All the while, he kept thinking that running into a hundred dementors might be a more pleasurable experience. At least then he wouldn't have to think the unthinkable. On second thought, Harry decided he must have been dumb to think that she was a witch. He was almost convinced... her name on the book list, everyone bugging him to ask, seeing her at Hogwarts (and in a strange situation no less). And to top it all off, he had been thinking of a bad memory about her just before it happened.  
  
Harry pushed the door open to the giant chess board. There was nothing there that caught anyone's eye except a custard colored furball munching on something in the corner.  
  
"Cappy!" shouted Hermione gleefully.  
  
She dashed over to Cappy and snatched her up.  
  
"Damn thing's still alive?" said Ron incredulously.  
  
"Hey, they eat anything," said Harry, shrugging at Cappy. "Hagrid will be glad to know she's not dead. Three more rooms, come on!" he added, turning towards the exit.  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione walked as one into the troll room. It was empty as well except for a sudden coldness which washed over the three of them, making the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stand up.  
  
"I don't like that," said Hermione, looking around the apparently empty room.  
  
They all stood up to their full height, looking curiously around. Something wasn't right. They edged toward the middle of the room, where a cold wind blew through the room, putting out the light from their wands.  
  
"Lumos!" Harry shouted and his wand was alight once again. He felt Ron clutch his free arm. "Maybe if you hold on tight enough, Ron, I may just pass out from loss of blood."  
  
"Sorry," Ron muttered as he merely loosened his grip.  
  
Harry began to feel light-headed, a feeling which he knew only to be the work of --  
  
"Dementors," Ron said, his voice quivering. "I know it!"  
  
"Don't be silly, Ron," said Hermione. "What would a dementor be doing down here?"  
  
It took her only a short moment to see Ron's point. What was the basilisk and Harry's aunt and uncle doing down here? She, too, grabbed onto Harry's free arm. He wished he had something to grab on to as well and then he remembered that the Order of Merlin plaque probably wasn't going to cut it. It was slightly comforting to know that, as he peered around the still apparently empty room, the necklace dangling freely in the air was a reminder that he wasn't totally useless.  
  
"Well what the hell are we standing here for," said Harry, hiding his own fear and turning around to the door on the opposite side of the room. "I'm not sticking around for dementors. Let's go."  
  
"Great idea," said Ron as his grip tightened on Harry's arm again.  
  
Harry didn't mind this time though as Ron's and Hermione's grip was assurance they relied on Harry to keep them safe. And truth be told, Harry was just as unexpecting of his Patronus as he was that day in Care of Magical Creatures.  
  
"On second thought," said Harry, as another wave of iciness made him very aware of his heavy breath, "we should just leave."  
  
"Even better idea," said Ron. Hermione seemed to be too intent on holding onto Harry for safety to speak.  
  
"Such brave little souls," said an icy voice, icier than the chilled winds. "Would be a shame if they were to be taken from you. Hah, aha, ahahahahahaha!" The voice could hardly contain it's excitement.  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione stopped moving. They stopped thinking. Harry's heart froze, froze solid and would never thaw. A shiver, produced only by the coldest of icicles, tore through his spine. It was the same deadly voice he had heard moments before a dementor saw fit to part him with his soul.  
  
"Come on," said Harry quickly, gripping Ron's wrist and turning towards the door leading back from where they came, except there was one problem. There was a dementor standing in their path.  
  
Harry pointed his wand at the single dementor and shouted, "Expecto Patronum!" Little more than a puff of silvery gas emitted from his wand tip. He was too consumed by Sirius to concentrate on anything. "Don't just stand there!" he shouted desperately. "You two try!"  
  
"Expecto Patronum!" shouted Ron and Hermione in unison.  
  
Something large and silver shot out of Hermione's wand, resembling a cat. It bounded after the dementor but amazingly, the Patronus had no effect on the dementor.  
  
"What was that?" said a voice they all could hear.  
  
Harry bounded towards the dementor as well and tried stupidly to shove it out of the way. It was useless. The dementor easily overpowered him.  
  
"No... no..." said another voice. Flashes of light filled his eyes and stopped abruptly as they started.  
  
Harry was starting to drown in an all too familiar and unpleasant wave of cold, penetrating his skin, entering his body, burrowing itself inside his very soul. He felt limp.  
  
"Me! No, please, take me instead!" Loud crying filled the air.  
  
"STAND ASIDE, GIRL!"  
  
Harry's eyes closed on their own and a flash of green light tore through the blackness. A barely visible dark figure, squirmed, twitched and then fell forward onto the floor, dead, as Harry's eyes opened again. The light of his wand had gone out.  
  
Popping sounds all over the room made clear that dementors were Apparating as fast as possible into the room, surrounding Harry, Ron and Hermione.  
  
By the feeble light of one burning candle, the dementor and the door became a blur of white fog, obscuring his sight to nothing any more useful than a dead rat. And then the candle went out, throwing them into total blackness. As much as he tried to blink as fast as possible to clear his vision, it was also useless. His hearing reduced to a steady stream of screams he thought might be coming from Ron and Hermione. Ron's and Hermione's grip loosened and he felt their hands slowly slide down his arm and off his hand.  
  
He was alone once again. The cold, rattling breath of the dementors drew nearer. He tried to push and shove them out of his way but they were coming ever closer. There was not an inch of the room not occupied by one of them.  
  
"And now..."  
  
The green light flashed again but it was only sudden. After, blackness filled Harry's eyes. A faint picture of Dumbledore bent over a limping Dudley. He heard Mr. Weasley screaming a charm he couldn't make out. Green light flashed again and Harry saw a picture of Mrs. Weasley's face. She fell to the floor as if dead. More green light. It bounced off the figure of Mr. Weasley as it hit, ricocheting off into the distance. He, too, fell as if dead and Harry could once again see the dementors. They were starting to more become foggy, more faded.  
  
"Do nothing unless I command you!" a voice cried.  
  
"The dementors will do it. Trust me!"  
  
Harry couldn't think of anything reasonable to say and said as loud as he could, "I'm not gonna die this time... not gonna... die..." It didn't come out as anything louder than a faint whisper.  
  
His legs turned to jelly and, unable to support his weight and when the nearest dementor's breath played across his face like the sick smell of vomit, they collapsed.  
  
"Don't give up, now!" cried another voice. The voices were coming from all directions.  
  
"You fight them, boy."  
  
"She wants to see you... it will be all right... hold on..."  
  
"Your parents are coming."  
  
There were voices from different people and voices out of order from faint memories. It was almost exactly as it had been two summers ago. He was going to die again and there was no mark of ancients to save him.  
  
"Stand aside! I will kill them! They are mine!"  
  
Something in him didn't want to die. It didn't want to give up. There was nothing he could do, nothing to save him. Someone would eventually realize they were missing and come to find them... but it would be too late...  
  
The nearest dementor slowly lifted up it's hood and took one step towards Harry. The putrid breath billowing out of it's mouth made Harry feel, if possible, more sick. It stuck out a cold, clammy and rotting hand and wrapped it around Harry's head. It was going to give him the Dementor's Kiss. A paralyzing terror locked him into staring at the scabbed skin where there should have been eyes.  
  
It pulled Harry's head near it's own. Harry's vision began spinning and time paused for hours with the dementor an inch from executing it's kiss.  
  
"NO!" he shouted with every last ounce of his fiber.  
  
But his vision went black as night and his head became light as air, falling to the floor.  
  
"Harry!"  
  
Someone poured ice-cold water onto his face.  
  
"Wake up, Harry..."  
  
Harry choked on the water and let out an almighty cough. Icy water dribbled down the sides of his mouth. The person put a hand under his neck and pulled up. Harry's eyes opened. Professor Dumbledore was leaning over him. He immediately thought of being expelled, having been caught out of bed at night once again, in a most strange situation and felt the blood rushing to his face. Nothing, however, could be scarier than a near death experience.  
  
"I'm not going to tell you what is down here," said Dumbledore calmly. "You may remember that I said I would have to insist on harsher punishments than detention -"  
  
"Please, Professor," said Harry quickly, "we were -"  
  
"You were trying to what? Come down here, find the Book of Memories and then what?" There was a tone of disappointment mixed with anger in his voice that made Harry feel far worse than if Dumbledore had just expelled him outright. Harry hadn't thought of that. What good would finding the book do? Dumbledore clearly wasn't going to come to reason and kick Wormtail out.  
  
Confused, Harry shook the thought away and looked around for Ron and Hermione. They weren't there.  
  
"Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger are safe and sound," said Dumbledore, watching Harry look around him. "I woke you up last so that I may have a few words."  
  
"Wormtail -"  
  
"- is here for reasons... which I will not explain. I think it is clear that the book is being held here so Lord Voldemort cannot obtain it. I will also not explain what it is that you are seeing down here so that you will not continue your troubles." Dumbledore stood up. "As you have sufficiently had your wits scared out of you, I feel I don't need to expell you at - this - time. I implore you... to not come down here again." He put enough finality in the last bit to end the conversation. "Now, would you please ride that admirable Dragonback back to the castle and join your classmates for lunch?"  
  
After hearing that Ron and Hermione gave Cappy back to Hagrid (and agreeing they never want another puffskein as a pet for as long as they live), Harry told Ron and Hermione what Dumbledore had said about Wormtail and the book. They were now in full agreement with Harry that they needed to find out what exactly Voldemort needed the book for but they had a strong feeling it would be involved in giving him a body.  
  
After dinner, they spent a good amount of time in the library looking for anything they could find about the Book of Memories. Neither of them cared much about Harry getting expelled -- including Harry.  
  
"It's definitely down there," said Hermione fully confidently. "It's... well... this book is just really odd," she added, screwing her eyes up in confusion.  
  
"What is it then?" snapped Ron.  
  
"It, well... it's got a bunch of rituals to revive people who have died, but magically, not naturally. For example by dementors or magical imprisonment in limbo... whatever that is. But... that book that said the ritual causing that baby to explode because it was done with the wrong soul... that's just proof that playing with this book is dangerous. Harry, maybe we should just... forget about it? This stuff sounds like ancient magic and that's supposed to be very dangerous."  
  
"Forget about it?" said Harry blankly. "Sirius is dead. I don't have anything to lose -"  
  
"- except... your LIFE," said Ron sharply staring at Harry, with a look of utmost concern on his face.  
  
Harry seemed to be considering the thought but upon reflection, it terrified him and he fell silent. For a few desperate seconds he had considered risking his own life.  
  
Harry resorted to clutching the Order of Merlin plaque. It continued to do no good. There was an emptiness lurking inside him that continued to shout "you killed Sirius." Sirius being dead was no longer a burden, though. Instead, it was the pang of guilt that Harry caused it that tortured him. He couldn't save his parents either and the more he thought about it, the more he blamed himself for their death. He didn't take note of how irrational the thought was, but he didn't care much about being rational lately. They died to save him -- him, Harry -- and that's all he cared about. If only he wasn't... And Sirius was willing to kill Wormtail and serve a life term in Azkaban. It was the very least that Harry could to do pay Sirius back.  
  
It wasn't all bad. At the very least, Sirius wasn't going to spend a year being driven to insanity. He died quickly. Such were the thoughts of a sixteen year old driven mad by recent events and he knew the dream about Sirius shouting that Harry killed him would come back.  
  
Hermione kept flipping through pages, Ron peering over her shoulder. Harry sat quietly in a chair opposite them, watching. There was nothing in Ancient Book of the Second Century, only a mention in Frantic Designs: Books Through the Ages about the beautiful cover, Strange Magical Phenomenon only mentioned that the cover seems to glitter sometimes and Books and How They Bewilder insisted that the Book of Memories didn't exist. It was when Harry saw the cover of a book titled The Undead: How To Take Out The 'Un' that he had an idea.  
  
"Hey," he said, looking up at Ron and Hermione, his eyes widening. "Why can't we just use the book to revive Sirius like you did for me?"  
  
"No good," said Hermione gloomily, sighing and shaking her head. It looked like she thought of that too. Harry went back to staring at the table. "Not strong enough. Your soul wanted to come back. His doesn't."  
  
Harry supposed that if he could think of that, Dumbledore might have. But then --  
  
"How's it going to bring Voldemort back to power?" Harry asked, looking up at Hermione once again.  
  
"That's why we're here, isn't it?" she said, flipping through page after page.  
  
Madam Pince, the librarian, whom Harry thought resembled an under-fed vulture, walked over to them. She was almost as thin as Professor Trelawney.  
  
"Come now," she said irritably. "To bed. All of you."  
  
"I just want to check this book out," said Hermione at once, looking up and holding out Necromancy: Outlawed or Outgrown.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore said you aren't allowed to take out any books," said Madam Pince firmly. She suddenly looked furious with herself. "He also said I'm not supposed to tell you that!" Then she looked even more angry. "Damn! He said I'm not supposed to tell you that he said I'm not supposed to tell you!" At this point she stomped her foot. "Damn! Fine! Take it and go."  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione walked as innocent as possible out of the library, all of them hiding a strong fit of laughter, Hermione having a dull smile on her face. Madam Pince was never one to swear.  
  
Since it was already close to bed time, they nodded their heads in agreement to just go to bed and talk about it in the morning. They would also be visiting the library.  
  
When Harry got back to his dormitory, the small, grubby package from the Dursleys was sitting on top of his bed yet again. Yet again, he tossed it into the garbage. He never knew them to be so persistent but perhaps they wanted to make sure that he would be where he might begin to feel better so that he would not end up coming home miserable and edgy. They'd had enough of his magic at home... 


	18. The Conversation

Chapter 18: THE CONVERSATION  
  
It was several weeks since they raided the library. Hermione insisted on taking her time to poke through the book. Just as Harry expected -- to his great displeasure -- the dream about Sirius had come back, night after night. Quidditch practice and games, both of which were, remarkably, still putting Gryffindor in the running to win the Quidditch Cup. And still, the name James Griffith brought the picture of the wizard with the untidy hair into Harry's mind. It was driving him bananas. "They're dead," he kept telling himself, "and nothing's going to bring them back." But finally, while Hermione was nearly drooling over Necromancy: Outlawed or Outgrown late one night in the commons, Ron couldn't take it anymore.  
  
"What'd you take that book out for?" he asked her.  
  
"I thought that maybe, just maybe, there would be something in here for Sirius," she said. Ron kept quiet as Hermione continued flipping through it.  
  
"I don't want him back," said Harry suddenly. Ron and Hermione shot him looks of utter shock.  
  
"What?" they both said, staring, mouths wide open.  
  
"You're just going to hit a dead end," said Harry matter-of-factly. "It's hopeless. You know a recurring dream I've been having lately?" Ron and Hermione stared. "I see him staring at me and he keeps saying 'You killed me.' It wakes me up sweating."  
  
"You know what you need to do again, Harry," said Hermione suggestively.  
  
"You're feeling miserable again and you won't talk to anyone," Ron said, staring at Harry like a hawk.  
  
"I told you -- exactly -- what was bothering me," said Harry.  
  
"No you didn't. Cought it up, Harry. What is it now?"  
  
"There isn't anything," he told her, telling the one hundred-percent truth. "Ron?" he said, turning to Ron. "You believe me?" Ron merely shrugged. He clearly didn't want to take sides.  
  
"You're impossible! I do everything I can to cheer you up and you aren't helping," Hermione said, sounding very irritated.  
  
"Good," said Harry. "Keep sounding irritated. That's what makes me feel better."  
  
Hermione stormed up the spiral stairs to the girls' dormitory.  
  
"Are you?" Ron asked.  
  
"No!" said Harry exasperatedly. "I'm not hiding anything! Honest!" He sighed and slumped back into his chair. "She's right, the cow."  
  
"Right about what?"  
  
Harry stood up and started towards the spiral staircase to go up to bed.  
  
"Harry!" Ron called. "Right about what!"  
  
Harry didn't bother replying.  
  
The next day, Sunday, as he woke up, Harry was slightly less gloomy. He thought, slight as it might be, that he could talk to... her... again and start feeling normal again. Hermione, on the other hand, was going to sieze this sudden slight up-lifting to see if she couldn't make Harry feel even better... She suckered him into walking alone with her around the lake while eating pieces of toast the next morning.  
  
"No," said Harry, turning away, disgusted at the thought.  
  
Hermione had once again suggested the most ridiculous thing ever and it was even more ridiculous since he already tried it once and it backfired.  
  
"No," he repeated. "I'm not. I refuse." He folded his arms in protest and stopped walking.  
  
"Come on! Do it. For me?" she added, giving him puppy eyes, the sight of which was most sickening, Harry thought. He stuck his chin higher into the air, tapping an impatient foot. "Please?" said Hermione.  
  
Harry took off his cloak and threw it over Hermione's face then folded his arms again.  
  
"Still not back to normal yet, I see," she said, the cloak blowing lightly in the breeze. It did prevent the snow from collecting in her hair but she pulled it off and stuffed it into Harry's folded arms.  
  
"No. Cho... No," he said shortly.  
  
"She already agreed to talk to you on Monday after Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione with an air of superiority.  
  
Harry put his cloak back on. As mad as he was at Hermione at the moment, it didn't distract him from being very cold; the end of February was no warmer than January.  
  
"You go back and tell her I'm not speaking to her," said Harry as cold as the air surrounding him. "I'm going back inside before I freeze to death. Of course, a few weeks ago I might not have minded."  
  
He turned on his heel and walked furiously back to the castle. Hermione stood for a moment and watched, saddened, as Harry left. She watched his steps all up through the castle, shivering in the cold wind, watched as he opened the castle doors and went out of sight. By no means, though, did her relationship with Harry extend beyond a strong friendship.  
  
In fact, she had put aside Viktor Krum ever since the term started to deal with Harry but she was filled with a deep concern that Harry refused to recognize. Or, he might have recognized, but refused to admit. Harry liked Cho -- a lot -- as Hermione very well knew but he refused to shelve his bad feelings and talk to Cho once again.  
  
It was like battling ten-foot-long Blast-Ended Screwts with a Spell-O-Taped wand.  
  
"YOU WHAT?" Harry bellowed at Hermione during lunch that same day, standing up, his knife and fork falling with a clatter. A few people from the Hufflepuff table stood up to see who had just screamed like someone had just died.  
  
"She agreed to it!" said Hermione hastily. She continued to talk, very irritated at Harry. "Another night by yourselves in Hogmseade. This Saturday. It'll be great. I spoke to her and she has something to tell you. You want to hear it, I know you do. It's not so bad. Oh come on!" she added, correctly interpreting Harry's silence.  
  
"I don't think he likes you anymore than he likes Dumbledore right now," said Ron, unable to stop himself from laughing.  
  
Hermione glowered at him. Ron had said exatly what Harry was thinking except he was too angry to say it. Cho had walked out on him and he was supposed to just talk to her again? After all he's been through? And not care that she just... just... walked out? Or was it all in his head and he was just making a big deal about it for nothing?  
  
Hermione didn't press the subject and kept her silence. It was Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan and Neville Longbottom that almost persuaded Harry to agree to it, finally. They began to talk to Harry as soon as he walked in to the dormitory so he could fake going to sleep and then sneak out to the library again with Ron.  
  
"You do know, Harry, that everyone's been wondering when you two are gonna talk again," said Dean, looking at Harry like he was just delaying the inevitable.  
  
"We have experience with girls!" said Seamus.  
  
"Oh really?" said Harry suspiciously. Of course, he hadn't been paying much attention to anyone except himself lately...  
  
"While you were skulking around since September, the rest of the school has been living in a parallel universe," said Dean sarcastically. "You weren't the only one who managed to get a girlfriend," he added, smirking.  
  
"Harry, if she wants to talk to you, you should go hear what she has to say," said Seamus sternly.  
  
"You - weren't - there," said Harry sharply back. "She just said 'I'm sorry, I can't, good bye,' and just... walked out!"  
  
"Maybe she's hiding something," said Dean while raising an eyebrow. "Eh?" Harry stared at the floor.  
  
"Yeah, maybe," he muttered dully to himself. Was she?  
  
"Harry?" said Seamus as if he just thought of something. Harry looked up at him. "What exactly did you tell her, anyway?"  
  
"Well, I... that is... but..." stuttered Harry. He didn't feel much like outright telling exactly what he told Cho, so he settled instead for saying, "We started by saying 'How are you,' and she said 'fine' and I said 'miserable' and she asked me what and - do we really have to talk about this?" he added, feeling very unsettled about the subject matter.  
  
"Ha!" said Dean proudly. "Hermione -"  
  
"Hermione, eh? She put you up to this, didn't she," said Harry, looking from one guilty face to the next. There was a pause while Dean and Seamus struggled to think of something that wouldn't make Harry say --  
  
"Good night," he said before they could come up with anything, now fully red-faced and embarassed that Hermione was once again fumbling around in his personal life.  
  
He couldn't deny to himself that, as much as he pretended to hate Hermione for stuff like this, she was just trying her very best to get Harry back with Cho even if her methods were a bit... shady.  
  
Harry shut the curtains on his four-post bed tight after removing his Order of Merlin necklace and watch but that didn't stop Hermione's soldiers. After a few minutes' silence --  
  
"Come on, mate!" shouted Dean desperately. "Hermione just wants to see you two back together again! Everyone in Gryffindor and Ravenclaw does! Heck! Almost the entire school! Don't think I'm lying when I say that almost every day when her and you leave the Great Hall for breakfast, lunch and dinner almost everyone from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw are talking about you two!"  
  
"So?" said Harry, pulling his covers over his head, not letting on that he was surprised and quite shocked that so many people wanted to see them back together. That would explain the looks from some Ravenclaw seventh years...  
  
"Just hear what Cho has to say?"  
  
"No," said Harry flatly. Really, though, what harm was there? He was no stranger to rejection. All Cho could do was walk out again and then Harry would be free to yell at Hermione and she wouldn't be able to do anything about it because --  
  
"You'll deserve it, you know, if she walks out again," said Harry at breakfast the next morning, not so sure he should be agreeing to this.  
  
"Fine," said Hermione in an unctuous tone that reminded Harry of Professor Karkaroff, who used to be headmaster at Durmstrang Academy. Harry couldn't tell whether she meant to say it pleasantly or scathingly -- it sure sounded like both. "This Friday at five in the Three Broomsticks," she added in the same tone. Hermione then finished the last of her breakfast, dropped her fork with a clatter and walked quickly towards the exit of the Great Hall.  
  
"D'you think she has her... you know?" Ron asked Harry, watching Hermione leave.  
  
"Let her go," said Harry, shrugging. "If it works, I won't be able to get rid of her. If we try to cheer her up, she'll think she's right. We can't have that."  
  
With Hermione gone, Ron didn't have to stifle the laugh.  
  
The end of February meant the start of March and March meant warmer weather, to everyone's great pleasure. It had been a rough winter and the days of fall were littered with thunderstorms and rain. The night just before Harry and Cho were to meet again, a heavy rain made sure to wash away the last of the snow. It also washed away the dream of Sirius that night, to be replaced by an especially strange one.  
  
He was lying on the floor of a pit, deep underground. Harry scrambled to his feet and looked all around, frantically, for a way out. He looked left. There was a wall only a few feet away. He looked right. There was still another wall the same distance away. He looked in front of him and behind him and there were still only more walls. Above him was a hole which looked to be at least one hundred feet high, far too high to simply jump up at.  
  
The place was not lit very well. It was very damp, very creepy and a white dementor had popped into existence from thin air, starting to advance on Harry. He went to look for his wand -- it wasn't there.  
  
Harry held out a finger stupidly and roared, "EXPECT PATRONUM!" while thinking of his few hours last year with his mom and dad. A cloudy mist erupted from his finger tips and flew a few inches before vanishing. The dementor laughed. He changed his thoughts to the time three years ago when he nearly escaped the Dursleys to live with Sirius and shouted "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" again. Another cloudy mist came out from his fingertips but was even less useful.  
  
The dementor came closer. Harry's vision was failing and he was becoming weak. An unpleasant, paralyzing chill was threatening to consume him. The dementor now stood over him as Harry's knees failed him and he fell backwards onto the ground. It was smiling, stretching the terrible, scabbed skin over where there should be eyes.  
  
Harry changed his thoughts again to the past summer and the huge birthday cake. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" he roared. Nothing. Harry switched his mind to one last desperate thought, this time looking forward to his time with Cho this weekend and shouted once more, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"  
  
Harry clasped a hand to his mouth as a shadowy figure of himself, an exact copy as he was, burst forth from his fingers with it's skin glowing a bright white. The dementor took out a black box laden with golden trimmings and dropped it onto the floor before disappearing with a pop. Harry's shadow pointed to the box and faded away.  
  
The real Harry stood up slowly, taking his time to recover from the dementor, and opened the black box. Inside it was a piece of parchment with words written on it. He read them.  
  
We walked the narrow path, beneath the smoking skies.  
Sometimes you can barely tell the difference between darkness and light.  
Do you have faith in what we believe? The truest test is when we cannot... when we cannot see.  
  
I hear pounding feet in the... in the streets below and the... and the women crying and the... and the children know that there... that there's something wrong and it's hard to belive that love will prevail.  
  
Oh it won't rain all the time.  
The sky won't fall forever.  
And though the night seems long, your tears won't fall forever.  
  
Oh, when I'm lonely, I lie awake at night and I wish you were here.  
I miss you.  
Can you tell me is there something more to believe in?  
Or is this all there is?  
  
In the pounding feet in the... in the streets below and the... and the window breaks and... and a woman falls. There's... there's something wrong. It's... it's hard to belive that love will prevail.  
  
Oh it won't rain all the time.  
The sky won't fall forever.  
And though the night seems long, your tears won't fall, your tears won't fall, your tears won't fall forever.  
  
Last night I had a dream.  
You came into my room, you took me into your arms.  
Whispering and kissing me and telling me to still belive.  
But then the emptiness of a burning sea against which we see our darkest of sadness.  
  
Until I felt safe and warm.  
I fell asleep in your arms.   
When I awoke I cried again for you were gone.  
Oh, can you hear me?  
  
It won't rain all the time.  
The sky won't fall forever.  
And though the night seems long, your tears won't fall forever.  
It won't rain all the time.  
The sky won't fall forever.  
And though the night seems long, your tears won't fall... your tears won't fall... your tears won't fall forever.  
  
- Jane Sibbery, It Can't Rain All The Time  
  
Harry, very confused, looked away from the parchment and noticed that a ladder made of rope had appeared that lead out of the pit. He smiled, very relieved and dropped the parchment. It fell right into the box, which closed itself, and flew out of the hole. Harry grabbed onto the bottom of the ladder and began to climb up, higher and higher.  
  
Halfway out, he had a terrible thought that it wasn't going to be that easy. Something always happens. Nothing was ever easy. But he grinned, looking up and down, seeing that nothing was there, nothing, except the dark pit below him and sunshine above it. He grabbed the Order of Merlin plaque and at that very instant, he found out what was going to go wrong.  
  
The ladder disappeared and Harry fell, fell at least fifty feet, screaming at the top of his lungs as he plummeted, before the dream dissolved and he awoke with a start. He would be keeping that dream to himself, supposing he should have payed attention to the Divination class in which Professor Trelawney went over interpretting dreams. No one would be able to make sense of that, nobody. Harry took Mr. Weasley's never-failing advice and put it out of his mind but he didn't forget the dream, it was just that he preferred not to talk about it. Something in the back of his head kept saying "Tell Cho, tell Cho," but the last time he did that, she walked out. He couldn't stand that again.  
  
Harry waited very impatiently for Friday at five to come and at long last, Ron and Hermione bid him good luck and left. He sat down at a table and a minute later, Cho walked in.  
  
"Hello," said Harry stiffly as she walked over to his table and sat down opposite him.  
  
"Yeah," said Cho, sounding slightly ashamed, "sorry about that."  
  
"Something you wanted to tell me?" said Harry, trying to not sound intimidating, and failing miserably.  
  
"I lied last time, I couldn't help it. I just wanted the second date" -- and Harry tried for dear life to prevent himself from looking shocked she had said the "d" word -- "to go as well as the first. When you went off about what was bugging you, I just felt guilty."  
  
Harry quickly changed tack.  
  
"What - what are you talking about?" he asked slowly.  
  
Cho gave a short-lived smile and rolled her eyes, clearing saying "it's not as good as I made it out to be," but Harry could have guessed that.  
  
"When I told my dad you and I had become great friends he... went ballistic raving... raving he doesn't want me to see that 'unlucky, grateful boy. And they gave him an Order of Merlin for what?'"  
  
Harry had a very strong urge to grab the plaque but successfully beat it down. Hand wanting nothing more than to hold it, he said, "You - er - still want to..."  
  
"Oh, yes, of course," said Cho hastily, waving a dismissive hand at Harry. A smile wanted desperately to smear across his face but all he could manage was a deep, slow, calming breath, causing the urge to hold the plaque to die away. "I don't care what he says. He's a raving lunatic, remember?"  
  
"Heh."  
  
"It was just that... that I just couldn't tell you what really happened because..." The smile underneath Harry's face broke the surface.  
  
"Because you thought I would hate him?" he asked, leaning on the table, feeling slightly better.  
  
"Yeah," said Cho, slouching in her chair. "You were so honest, telling me all of that. I felt guilty!" she added loudly.  
  
"Just don't do it again, eh?" said Harry innocently.  
  
"Heh."  
  
"D'you want to sit here all night, then or do you want to do something?" Harry asked.  
  
"So - so you're not angry?" Cho asked, feeling horrible.  
  
Harry changed tack again, dearly wanting to express how outraged he initially felt, how sad he was, how irritable it made him... but staring into Cho's eyes, he would have to make it sound not as bad as bad it really was.  
  
"Hermione told me all that happened as soon as you - er - tore up your photo album," said Cho, saying what Harry was wondering (and that was what had made her want to talk to him again). "She convinced me to fess up."  
  
Harry digressed to simply sitting upright in his chair, arms folded, feeling slightly sullen.  
  
"Yeah, you could say I was a little torn up when you walked out," he said with a touch more attitude than he intended. "I went and told Professor Dumbledore I wanted to have a funeral for Sirius. I still do and I'd like to know what's taking so long."  
  
"L-look, how about we go do something instead of sitting here all night?" said Cho quickly, trying desperately to put Harry's mind in a better place.  
  
Harry looked away, Cho staring at him, and didn't respond. He couldn't explain to himself why he would be ignoring Cho now that things were... supposedly... normal again. It took the nerve-racking sound of a minute's silence for the answer to come to him. She just doesn't understand. She doesn't understand what it has been like to live with the hateful Dursleys for ten years and accept that the Potters died in a car crash. And then you find out on your eleventh birthday -- your birthday, of all days -- that they were killed by a wizard, and that you yourself were a wizard and that your relatives had known and didn't tell you.  
  
But Cho was still sitting there, staring at Harry.  
  
She doesn't understand what it's been like to know that your parents had to have been involved in something but only to have been lied to and told they were simply Aurors and that the person lying to you was put under a Charm meant to trick you. She doesn't understand what it's been like to have your heart ripped from your chest, rollered, tenderized, beaten, smashed, cut in two, one half cut like swiss cheese and sliced thin like bologna, served on a golden platter to that same Dark wizard, the other half torn to shreds and thrown away like yesterday's garbage -- and all for a reason you don't know.  
  
But Cho was still sitting there, staring at Harry.  
  
No mother, no father, no godfather. Why not no friends, too? For a second he wished he had the mark of ancients again. At least with that Voldemort could attempt another permanent Imperius, invoking the radical mood swings he experienced while trying to fight it off. At least then he wouldn't be responsible for suddenly changing moods, especially on the likes of the one he had just sunken himself into.  
  
But Cho was still sitting there, staring at Harry.  
  
An urge to hold the Order of Merlin plaque caused a furor in Harry's conscience. He could just hold it very quickly and feel slightly guilty but also feel better or not hold it and continue feeling as miserable as he had the past few months.  
  
But this was not a way to be living your life, Harry thought decisively to himself and thankfully, Cho was still sitting there, staring at him.  
  
He leaned forward again, opened his mouth to say something, to which Cho's eyes brightened, took a moment to come up with the right words, and said, "Let's do something."  
  
They both stood up at the same time from their chairs.  
  
They walked towards one another.  
  
And hugged.  
  
Madam Rosmerta must have noticed it because she gave them both a free butterbeer. She had also used the "L" word again. Harry and Cho both looked at each other oddly, then at Madam Rosmerta, mortified that she had said such a thing.  
  
"Oh come on you two," sighed Madam Rosmerta, the last of her patience leaving her, staring them down like an eagle. "Harry," she said, turning on him, "what did I tell you?"  
  
Harry gulped and said, "You said if Cho really..." -- and there was quite a few seconds where he didn't speak -- "m-me, she wouldn't have left without a good reason and she'll be willing to give it a second try."  
  
"And?"  
  
"And what?"  
  
Madam Rosmerta smiled. Harry and Cho were left both very confused and simply walked out of the Three Broomsticks after drinking their butterbeers. Walking down High Street, they came to the conclusion that Madam Rosmerta was referring to how they were back together again. They made a stop at Gladrag's Wizardwear where Cho wanted desperately to purchase matching dragon hide boots of the ones Harry was wearing.  
  
"Crap! I only took ten galleons with me. Oh, and I really wanted them," Cho complained to herself.  
  
Turning red, Harry shoved another galleon in her hand.  
  
After spending a good half hour in Gladrag's, gauking at gloves imbued with a Strength Charm (Harry managed to lift Cho up with one hand), they both decided they were hungry and would go back to the castle. On the way, however, Harry stopped dead and the sound of his own name in a conversation taking place inside the Three Broomsticks. The two stepped aside the entrance of the building and listened in, standing against the wall.  
  
"Did Harry have a good Christmas?" asked Professor McGonagall.  
  
"No," said Dumbledore gravely. "Molly offered him some words of comfort one night... and... the next morning she found the photo album Hagrid had given him torn to pieces. I successfully put it back together but I don't know what to do," he said, very distressed. "I just don't know."  
  
"Yes," said Professor McGonagall sternly, "you do know what to do. You have to tell him, Albus!" she pleaded.  
  
"Tell him what, Minerva?" said Dumbledore scathingly. It was very out of touch with his usual manner.  
  
"That it may be possible to revive Sirius!"  
  
Cho immediately covered Harry's mouth with both hands, his ears glued to the conversation. She didn't need to set him down, he slowly slid down the wall to the floor on his own -- or was it that his legs didn't feel like holding him up anymore?  
  
"Should we really be listening to this?" Cho asked. She allowed Harry's head enough movement and he gave her a wild nod. Harry then pulled out something from inside his robes.  
  
"The Invisibility Cloak!" Cho gasped. "Oh no, should we?"  
  
She felt Harry's tongue licking her hand and she pulled it off faster than you could say "gross." Harry covered himself and Cho with the cloak after checking no one was around. They stepped inside and sat up against the wall near the entrance. Harry had to sit as he didn't think he'd be able to stand much longer without collapsing. He let his arms fall wherever they felt like going and concentrated on nothing but the conversation. He whispered to Cho that Dumbledore could see through Invisibility Cloaks and they hid themselves completely out of sight of him.  
  
Professor McGonagall, Dumbledore, Mr. Fudge and Professor Snape -- thankfully not Professor Moody -- were having a cuppa in the back of the Three Broomsticks.  
  
"You said yourself you would research any possible way of reviving Black because," said Professor McGonagall, "and I quote you, Albus, 'He's lost his parents, he cannot lose his godfather and I shudder at the thought.' What harm is there?" she added pleadingly. "He already assumes Black is dead. His mood cannot get any worse!"  
  
"There is a lot of harm -"  
  
"Explain it again then, will you?" Professor McGonagall interrupted sharply.  
  
Dumbledore took a moderate-sized breath. "The Book of Memories cannot revive Sirius. It's power is weak and would only suffice to reattach a willing soul. Such was why it worked with Harry that summer. Telling him is worthless. He'll have false hopes and that's the last thing he needs."  
  
"Yes, but Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger!" Professor McGonagall said pleadingly again. "They found out about the Philosopher's Stone and the basilisk. Surely they could find out how to get the Staff of Cybele?"  
  
Dumbledore gave her a sharp look, eyes dark behind the half-moon spectacles. Professor McGonagall nervously fixed her bun under his gaze.  
  
"It's origins are unknown," said Mr. Fudge abandoning all pretense of ever locating it. "There are no records of it's existence. We only know what it looks like. They should not be looking for it, mind you...  
  
"It's something to do with the Book but I just don't understand. Why doesn't it work? What exactly, your guess is as good as mine. They would not be allowed to keep the staff, of course and I would hazard to guess that the Ministry would be holding it. Woe behold us if it should, dare I say, fall into the wrong hands. That's if it exists, mind you, and I doubt it does."  
  
Staff, Harry thought to himself?  
  
"The staff is quite powerful, is it not?" asked Professor Snape. "Or, dare I say, rumored to be," he added, glaring at Fudge.  
  
"Oh yes," ensured Dumbledore. "There's been some long-standing rumors that it can even reawaken the dead."  
  
Harry let out an audible gasp which made Cho give him a sharp elbow to the ribs. She could feel the hot breath coming hard and fast out of his nose as she put a hand back over his mouth.  
  
"That's what people used to say about it of course," Dumbledore continued, "and like all ancient rumors have been, they too are false. You can put your tongues back in your mouths if you would like," he added.  
  
Professor McGonagall suddenly became very unnerved.  
  
"Myths, my dear Minerva," said Dumbledore, noting the disturbed look on her face, "and only myths. As far as what must be done with Sirius..."  
  
"Necromancy is outlawed, Albus. Surely -"  
  
"If Lord Voldemort is to be stopped before he can obtain the staff... I have no other solutions and would be glad to hear suggestions," said Dumbledore, eyes glittering. He sighed again, looking distressed. "Please keep this information from Harry -"  
  
"Yes -"  
  
"Right -"  
  
"Will do -"  
  
"- as I have not seen him in worse spirits, ever. If I think I could cheer him up by telling him, I would but we do not even know if the staff exists."  
  
"I gather you threatened to expell him to keep him from finding out?" asked Professor Snape.  
  
"'Threatened' is a strong word, Severus, but yes, and it seems to be working except for that one morning. You will note however that I asked you to not go where he might be at night. Harry might very well have a heart attack if he thinks he's going to get expelled," he added, chuckling very, very lightly.  
  
"You could not just... let it slip... perhaps?" asked Professor McGonagall timidly. "That there is at least some hope for his godfather? Dear me, he came into class one morning and I thought he was going to burst out crying any moment! And he's been doing that for a month!"  
  
"Please, Minerva, aren't you exaggerating just... a little?" said Professor Snape.  
  
"I feel bad, Minerva," said Dumbledore. "I really do... I hate to see the sadness on his face each class but it would be worse if he had any false hopes."  
  
"At the very least you can stop those infernal Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons with Professor Delacour. So many times has he come to Transfiguration so red that if you pressed a finger to his face, you would be extracting blood," said Professor McGonagall hotly.  
  
"Minerva has a point, Albus," said Professor Snape. "I told you about those two classes with Potter. It was frightening."  
  
Dumbledore laughed loudly.  
  
"Had your comeuppance, have you?" he sneered.  
  
Snape made a very strained face for a moment and then he sighed. Dumbledore smiled broadly.  
  
"Maybe you can cheer Harry up by telling him you're sorry," he said, still laughing. "It could have a remarkable effect. Think about it! You just may stop hating James!"  
  
Snape growled.  
  
"Ah, Severus... but please, do say something to him Monday afternoon? At the very least he will be very confused and will become suspicious of you but, after all, that would be an improvement."  
  
"Good, good," said Mr. Fudge. "But what of Peter Pettigrew?"  
  
"What about him, Cornelius?" said Dumbledore suspiciously. "He says he ran from Lord Voldemort and I trust him. He knows the book is here -- just as Lord Voldemort does -- and has not attempted to steal it yet. Now, it is getting late. We should head back."  
  
Professors McGonagall and Snape nodded in agreement. As they left the Three Broomsticks and as Cho and Harry watched them exit, Harry's mouth slowly closed, his head about to burst. Immediately after Cho took her hand off Harry's mouth, he began to almost hyperventilate.  
  
"I know what you're thinking," said Cho before Harry could say a word.  
  
"I know what I'm thinking too," said Harry through heavy breath. "I want to find that staff! I knew it. There's something with that book and it's definitely down the passageway from the third floor corridor."  
  
"You're going to get yourself killed if you go down there again," said Cho sharply.  
  
"So?" said Harry indifferently. "Do you have a quill and parchment on you? I need to write stuff down before I forget -- now."  
  
Harry only thought of one thing to do as Cho pulled out some parchment, a quill and some ink out of her handbag: write down - every - single - thing that he could remember before forgetting any of it -- and that was what he did for a good half hour. Cho didn't outright agree to the idea but it was fruitless to try and stop him.  
  
By the time he finished, he had managed to write everything down, not leaving a thing out. He rolled up the three pieces of parchment it took to get it all down and stuffed them in his robes. Harry didn't show Ron or Hermione yet and begged Cho not to tell anyone until he said so.  
  
Harry made a point to tell Hermione that Cho and him were back on speaking terms and that he was very glad of it. He also made it a point to remind Hermione to keep her I-told-you-so's to herself.  
  
That night, Harry took off his Order of Merlin necklace and placed it on his bedside table, after tossing the grubby package into the garbage once again. He would not be needing the plaque to fall asleep that night, as he had been (just as a small comfort, as it regularly continued to do nothing). There was plenty that aided in the formation of the uncontrollable, huge smile on his face. Harry's heart erupted with joy and there was no stopping the grin.  
  
The Staff of Cybele can revive Sirius. And there are rumors it can bring the dead back. Nevermind what Dumbledore said about expelling him and there being no way to revive the dead. Harry now wanted the book for his own purposes. It had something to do with book. It had to.  
  
Now Harry had plenty to do -- plenty researching with Hermione. 


	19. Some New Hope

Chapter 19: SOME NEW HOPE  
  
Being Saturday morning, they had plenty time to discuss everything. When Harry woke up, Ron thought he had finally gone insane as the uncontrollable, huge grin on Harry's face had not faded one tiny bit.  
  
"What are you smiling about?" Ron asked. "Had a dream about Cho talking to friends, saying she wants to change to Gryffindor?"  
  
"No," said Harry, giggling. But he didn't think that would be such a bad dream. "I'll explain after breakfast... It's really good news," he added, turning away from Ron and putting the Order of Merlin necklace on. He grabbed the plaque... just to test... just to see...  
  
It did something. A small feeling of calmness washed over Harry. It was the beginning of the end. He could finally see an end to his immediate troubles.  
  
"If you insist," said Ron.  
  
After he finished eating (and he did so very quickly), Harry dashed out of the Great Hall, up to his dormitory, took out the three pieces of parchment in which he wrote down the conversation and ran back into the Great Hall. Ron and Hermione, who were barely halfway finished with their breakfast, suddenly lost their appetite when they got to the part about reviving Sirius.  
  
"So you no longer hate Dumbledore?" Ron asked.  
  
"I still hate Dumbledore," said Harry immediately. "He said Wormtail hasn't attempted to steal it, which he has..."  
  
Ron's face became screwed up in thought. It was a question to which they would not find an answer to any time soon.  
  
"But how?" said Hermione after she finished reading. "How can they revive Sirius if the book can't do it? That staff is just a legend, Harry."  
  
"It exists," said Harry sharply. "Dumbledore spoke about it so confidently. Here, read that again," he added, pointing to the bit about reviving the dead.  
  
Ron's eyes widened. Harry had said the magic words.  
  
"This'll put us in textbooks, Hermione!" said Ron, hardly able to contain himself. "I'm convinced. Where and when do we start?"  
  
Hermione gave an apprehensive sigh. She didn't look too pleased at having to search for something that supposedly doesn't exist. Harry didn't care for much for anything; it was the thought of seeing Sirius well again that helped him sneak into the Restricted Section of the library under the Invisibility Cloak that night. Ron and Hermione were with him and they agreed to spend a good few hours past midnight.  
  
Potions class the next day did turn out to be interesting. Upon arriving to the dungeons, Professor Snape was not down there yet. Everyone waited several minutes before they heard footsteps coming down the corridor and then the door open with a bang.  
  
"Potter, a word with you after class," said Snape quickly. His skin was paler than usual and there seemed to be more grease in his hair than usual. Something was up.  
  
Class continued as normal... mostly. Professor Snape seemed to be avoiding Harry all period. Harry tried to hide that he knew what was coming. Ron and Hermione sniggered all through class and Snape took the opportunity to take three points from Gryffindor, one point for each time they managed to laugh out loud. Normally, Harry noticed, it might have been five or even ten points.  
  
When the bell rang, Snape beckoned Harry to stay in his seat. Harry waved good bye to Ron, Hermione -- and Neville, who looked to be thinking that Harry was going to end up losing Gryffindor a round fifty.  
  
"Potter," started Snape, pacing back and forth behind his desk, slightly shaking. Harry had the impression that Snape was going to rush through his speech, mortified at having to give it. "In light of recent events -- and may I remind you none of the staff agrees with Professor Dumbledore about keeping Pettigrew here --" he said very, very quickly, "I feel it is necessary to put Ja-" but suddenly he stopped speaking and looked at Harry, who had another impression -- that Snape was asking permission to speak the names of Harry's parents.  
  
Snape had not mentioned either of them at all ever since that day nor had he spoken much to Harry, either. And Harry, who had been staring at his desk, looked through the top of his round glasses back at Snape and didn't notice that his look was rather menacing. He thought for a moment and pondered whether he should nod or not. What Snape had said, that James Potter deserved what he got, still sent a venomous hatred through his body.  
  
"You better be asking me permission first," Harry muttered hotly and soundlessly to himself.  
  
"What was that?" asked Snape.  
  
But, gold wristwatch reflecting off Snape's long, crooked nose and the feeling that Snape has had his repentance -- but if Snape wasn't apologizing, Harry would be positively FUMING!  
  
"Go on," said Harry coolly and nodding.  
  
"Very well," said Snape and he went back to pacing. "I feel it is necessary that - that I - I," he stuttered, apparently trying to find the words (or make it come out right so that Harry wouldn't keep his promise and break all of Snape's bones). "I feel it is necessary that I put your father's memory to rest. I believe we are going to be facing difficult times in the very near future, Pettigrew being the least of our worries. While it may or may not be his intention to steal the Book, the consensus among the staff is such that Lord Voldemort will walk again. I don't think it is helping the situation that I have... that I may have misjudged you," he added, quietly. The speech was without a doubt Snape. It was rushed, he sounded apprehensive and he really didn't want to have to say any of it.  
  
"You know my dad wasn't in on the joke to send you to the Shrieking Shack where you'd end up seeing a werewolf," said Harry coolly yet slightly angrily, still peering over the top of his glasses. "It was Sirius who had the idea. My dad just didn't want to see you get hurt. Sirius must have had a reason, though. Why were you always following them around, trying to get them expelled?" Harry added loudly, leaning back.  
  
Snape suddenly stopped his pacing.  
  
"To show that I'm willing, I will not be taking three points from Gryffindor," he said. "You may leave."  
  
Harry didn't want to overstay his visit and left immediately to tell Ron and Hermione what Snape had said.  
  
"Barking mad," said Ron.  
  
"At least we don't get three points taken," said Hermione brightly.  
  
"Shame he didn't want to tell me why he kept following Sirius, Lupin, Pettigrew and my dad around," said Harry.  
  
"Shame he didn't succeed in getting Pettigrew expelled," said Ron.  
  
Harry and Hermione nodded in agreement. They would mention that to Snape next Potions class, just to see, just to find out if he would admit why he followed them.  
  
The first night of searching for anything on the Staff of Cybele yielded nothing. They searched about fifteen books in total before their eyelids succumbed to the force of gravity. As they put the last book on the shelf from which they took it, Harry became slightly sulky, slightly degenerated, from not finding anything useful.  
  
"Harry... it's only the first time looking. I would have been surprised if we found anything," said Hermione comfortingly.  
  
It was the only thing that would keep Harry out of his disenchanting spirits, the pinnacle of which they hoped they reached when Ron had been forced to say that Harry had nothing to lose... except his life. The thought of which terrified Ron each time he remembered he had said it.  
  
The next morning, Harry, Ron and Hermione lost all nerve of mentioning to Snape how he should have succeeded in getting Pettigrew expelled. Next class, they kept telling themselves, next class... But the next class they sat back idly, making Mind-Blanker Potions.  
  
Quidditch had become a second thought as of late, though practices continued as normal and games were played on a regular schedule. Cho's face brought minor comfort and the Order of Merlin plaque continued to do something but only very little.  
  
Panic had finally set in throughout the school that Peter Pettigrew, Voldemort's supporter, was lurking the school grounds and their headmaster, the great Albus Dumbledore, was perfectly willing to let him stay. Harry naturally agreed with everyone else in saying Wormtail wasn't to be trusted but as Ron said during lunch one afternoon --  
  
"There's no way he's going to throw Pettigrew out."  
  
Harry had a very unnvering idea for a quick moment that maybe, just maybe, Dumbledore had a Memory Charm placed on him or was being controlled with the Imperius Curse. It was a bit outlandish. That would never happen to Dumbledore, he was too great a wizard and Wormtail would never be able to manage it, Harry assured himself.  
  
"Wish he would," muttered Neville. "I see him in the corridors and he gives me dirty looks..."  
  
"Scared, Longbottom?" said a drawling voice behind Harry. Not surprised to recognize the voice as Malfoy's, Harry didn't bother turning around.  
  
"Didn't you once say that to me, Malfoy?" said Harry coolly. "What, running out of material?"  
  
"If I remember, Potter," sneered Malfoy, "afterwards, everyone ended up being afraid of you."  
  
"Oh everyone should fear me," said Harry sarcastically. "Including you. Next time you're playing Quidditch, I might just cast a lightning bolt down on you. But if you'll look up, it's thundering outside right now!"  
  
Harry then proceeded to put his arms up and flutter his fingers mysteriously as if to cast a spell. Malfoy stumbled and nearly tripped. The people around Harry and Malfoy roared with laughter, including the Hufflepuffs who had seen it.  
  
Malfoy shot the back of Harry's head a particularly nasty look and stormed off towards the Slytherin table. Ron and Hermione snorted into their food. Once they were sure everyone else had sunk into their own conversation with someone, Harry, Ron and Hermione lowered their voices.  
  
"You know what's starting to annoy me more than Malfoy?" Harry asked. "That stupid package the Dursleys keep sending me."  
  
"Have you ever thought that maybe it's not from the Dursleys, that it's actually the same stupid package and that you should open it?" said Hermione hotly.  
  
"Well aren't you the intellectual one," snapped Ron.  
  
Hermione sighed loudly at the side of Ron's head.  
  
"They never kept sending me something, have they," said Harry. He shook his head. "No, I'm not opening it. It's so small, it's just going to be something that's just going to upset me and now that Cho and I are friends again, not to mention you-know-what," said Harry, referring to the Staff of Cybele, "I don't need it ruined by a thoughtless Christmas present."  
  
"Rememeber that dream I had in Divination?" said Ron, purposely changing the subject and looking up.  
  
"Which one?"  
  
"The one with Sirius saying something about 'Cybele' then becoming a zombie?" Harry's eyes widened.  
  
"What, you think he knew something about it?" Hermioned asked, looking between the two of them.  
  
"You know what that means," said Harry suggestively. Ron and Hermione both gave him quizzical looks. "Yes," Harry added, noticing Hermione suddenly frowning, "We're going to the library until we find something useful."  
  
"Fine," said Hermione to which Ron asked her, "Didn't we already establish that?"  
  
Harry nodded. "We did," he told Ron, "but Hermione still thinks we're wasting our time," he said, smiling pleasantly at her.  
  
Their research into the Staff of Cybele continued endlessly into the coming weeks. There seemed to be conflicting reports on what the staff actually looked like. Ron started to believe it really was just a legend.  
  
"I mean, if they can't even agree on what it looks like... Says here it's purple, with a fluffy dragon's head at the tip, a pink crystal ball held in place by a puffskein tongue and the end is a bottlebrush tail. Hey, maybe they killed Crookshanks in a former life and that's why he's so irritable?" said Ron.  
  
"Can't be," said Hermione, ignoring Ron's statement about her cat. "Mr. Ollivander said a skunk's mouth held a pure white crystal. The mouth was attached to the body of a squirrel and made up the staff's handle with a squirrel tail at the bottom."  
  
"Nope," sighed Harry. "This book describes it as a red eagle's mouth holding a red crystal. The eagle's mouth is attached to the body of an eagle, the body being gold. At the end is an eagle's tail and it's red again. This is hopeless."  
  
"About time!" said Ron, who was sick of searching and not finding. "Was wondering when -" but he fell silent at a sharp look from Hermione. She didn't voice it but she was starting to see it Harry's way.  
  
"We just need to keep looking," she insisted.  
  
"Yep," Harry agreed.  
  
"We've searched the entire bloody library!" said Ron angrily.  
  
It was finally Ron's turn to sigh. Harry felt a rush of gratitude towards Hermione, who, as hopeless as the search seemed to be, didn't look to be giving up any time soon.  
  
Fear inside the castle grew as Wormtail's presence in the castle seemed to grow more and more. Harry noticed him lurking the corridors, muttering soundlessly to himself. Rumors quickly started to fly around that he was plotting to kill Harry. Harry silently agreed.  
  
"Preposterous," Hermione assured him.  
  
"Yeah..." he said darkly.  
  
Harry took to peering over his back whenever crossing an empty corridor. A feeling of great unease permeated the castle walls much like it had done when the school was threatened with closure in Harry's second year. Wormtail seemed to be harmless, yet he muttered to himself soundlessly when you passed him. If you tried to talk to him, he transformed into a rat and scampered away.  
  
Wormtail's own attitude had turned for the worse as he became increasingly edgy. Harry, Ron and Hermione didn't know -- or care -- where Wormtail spent the nights. They only cared that he hadn't tried anything yet but Dumbledore kept him still, not caring the entire school thought Wormtail wanted a piece of Harry's skin.  
  
Occasionally you would see Wormtail holding the Book of Memories in his arms, reading it's pages nonchalantly while Harry passed him between classes, off to breakfast, lunch and dinner. This upset Harry a great deal, as he began to feel nothing but utterly perplexed at Dumbledore's decision to let Wormtail, the same Wormtail who had been responsible for Voldemort's second coming, stay.  
  
He couldn't deny to himself that there was something odd about Wormtail carrying the book at all. Dumbledore would never approve of him carrying it, especially considering during their readings, Harry, Ron and Hermione had found out how Voldemort could use it to come back. The Dark Necromancy involved the corpse of one wizard who hated Voldemort and the blood of another. They were completely convinced the body would be Harry's and the blood could be from just about anyone not in Slytherin at Hogwarts.  
  
Particularly upsetting was how Wormtail prowled the third floor corridor each night every time they went to the library. Harry kept returning just to see if Wormtail would do anything different.  
  
Wormtail did seem to be following Harry closely and as a result --  
  
"Can't I just kill him and get it over with?" Harry suggested one morning over breakfast.  
  
"No," said Dean Thomas. "Dumbledore would be the one to kill you then. You know what I saw Pettigrew doing one morning? He was playing with a dead rat and some of his own blood. What does he think he's doing?"  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged panicked looks. They hadn't told anyone about how Wormtail could revive Voldemort.  
  
"What?" asked Dean, looking between the three of them.  
  
"Nothing," Harry lied quickly.  
  
Dean looked at Harry suspiciously "You know something, don't you?" His eyes widened. "Going to save the school from terror again, eh?" he said brightly.  
  
Harry gave Dean a very angry look and Dean kept his silence about Wormtail throughout the rest of dinner. A few minutes later, the morning post arrived. Harry could see his snowy owl, Hedwig, among the sea of other owls.  
  
"Wonder if there are any good articles in the Daily Prophet," said Hermione, trying to change the subject. "Rita Skeeter hasn't written anything nasty since, well..." she added, smiling.  
  
Hedwig dropped another small, grubby package right on Harry's toast.  
  
"Another one!" he shouted.  
  
"Ever think of actually opening it?" said Hermione, looking between Harry's eyes staring at the package and the package itself.  
  
"No. I told you, it's going to be something stupid."  
  
"Ever since Sirius you've become quite unreasonable, you know," she snapped.  
  
"Have I?" said Harry hotly.  
  
"Yes."  
  
Harry didn't let on, but looking back, she was quite right. It really was silly not to at least open it.  
  
"It's not from the Dursleys, Harry," said Hermione. "It can't be. They wouldn't keep sending you the same package."  
  
Again, she was quite right. Harry stuffed it in his bag saying he would open it when he got back to his dormitory. He really had no intention though. He was just going to throw it out again.  
  
"Look at this," said Ron. "Article in the Daily Prophet about Pettigrew. Word got out..."  
  
"Not surprising," said Harry flatly. "Not our dear friend Skeeter, is it?"'  
  
"Unfortunately," said Ron.  
  
OUT OF HIS MIND?  
By Rita Skeeter  
  
Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy, Albus Dumbledore has done some pretty outlandish things in his time but none as dangerous as allowing Peter Pettigrew, whom all know was responsible for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's brief rise again (before Harry Potter bestowed another gift upon us), to stay within the walls of the school. Pettigrew has been seen in the school halls carrying the Book of Memories, which many will know was used to revive Potter after a nasty incident involving dementors. Many students think Dumbledore should be exiled for such a crazy decision.  
  
"I see him while going to classes and he looks at me funny," says one sixth year student, Neville Longbottom.  
  
Of course, the rumor about the school is that Pettigrew is after Harry Potter. Although outlawed, Necromancy plays a large role in the Dark arts and laws did not stop Pettigrew from performing such forbidden magic to revive He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.  
  
"We all think he's after Harry," said a seventh year, Cho Chang. "He talks to himself. I once heard him say, 'It'll be quick, I can do it at night and then he'll be back to normal.'"  
  
What would drive Albus Dumbledore, regarded as the best wizard of our time, to settle on such a thing?  
  
The Book of Memories, a several thousand year old tomb, is a bit of Dark magic in itself. Not much is known as Professor Dumbledore prefers to keep the book within school territory, for fear someone might steal it. Professor Dumbledore fears the book will be stolen and yet Pettigrew is allowed to stay inside the school. One can only wonder.  
  
Professor Dumbledore was not available for comment.  
  
"Well that's encouraging," said Harry sarcastically. "He's going to kill me while I'm sleeping, steal the book and then he'll revive Voldemort as quick as he can." He would have said more, but Harry's voice seemed to have stopped working on his request.  
  
It wasn't until one night while sneaking to the library did suspicions become rooted in fact.  
  
"Where does he think he's going!" Harry hissed.  
  
Wormtail was bounding down the third floor corridor just as they turned the corner, carrying the Book of Memories once again. It looked very much like he was attempting to steal it once again but not under Harry's watch would that ever happen. Heart pounding and a surge of energy running through his veins, Harry pulled out his wand and watched Wormtail.  
  
"Taking it away... going to use it on him... only need to do it once... can get it over with finally..." Wormtail muttered to himself.  
  
Harry left Ron and Hermione, taking the Invisibility Cloak with him (and promising no one would find them) and chased after Wormtail, who was running quite fast. Down the stairs towards the second floor... Harry was gaining on him, his legs moving faster than he knew them to normally allow but not taking much notice to it. He made sure he wasn't making too much noise so his footsteps wouldn't be heard over Wormtail's own. If he knew Harry was chasing him... Wormtail was carrying his wand... and there were other ways to kill a person other than the Killing Curse...  
  
Down the marble staircase, Wormtail headed straight for the castle exit. Did he seriously think he would get away?  
  
"Stupefy!" shouted Harry as Wormtail's hand reached the great oak front doors of Hogwarts.  
  
The spell hit Wormtail square in the back. His face slammed into the oak doors with a crunch and he crumpled onto the floor. Walking swiftly from the Great Hall was Dumbledore. This was it, Harry thought happily, Wormtail was going to be thrown out!  
  
Dumbledore halted in front of the body of Wormtail, pointing his long, crooked nose at him, a look of shock on his face, the glitter not evident behind the half-moon spectacles.  
  
"He actually tried to do it," said Dumbledore, straightening himself.  
  
"Never thought he'd do it?" said Harry incredulously, pulling the cloak off himself. Dumbledore didn't look surprised to see Harry there.  
  
"Yes, Harry," said Dumbledore, looking at Harry so sharply that he felt frozen to the spot. "I am aware of the rumor that Pettigrew needs to kill you to revive Lord Voldemort once again and I regret to say that it is true. He does need to kill you" -- and Harry went very numb, blood rising in his face, a fresh feeling of fear slowly seeping through him -- "but he will not as I still believe he ran from the Dark Lord and is seeking refuge here. I did not, however, expect to see him to attempt to steal the Book." He paused for a minute and Harry took the time to gain feeling back in his body. "Please do not tell anyone what has happened."  
  
"Never thought he'd do it," Harry muttered angrily to himself. "You know what I heard him say? 'Taking it away... going to use it on him... only need to do it once... can get it over with finally...' What makes you think he's not going to try to kill me if you didn't think he'd try to steal the book?" he added loudly.  
  
Dumbledore had once before given Harry a grave look and it was none to pleasing -- it was none too pleasing this time around either. There was a long pause in which neither of them said anything. This left time for the thought of Harry's life being in danger to sink in. It had to do so before and each time, it only got worse.  
  
"As I am sure you have heard many times before, your parents gave their life to save you. It would not a great way to repay them by risking it," said Dumbledore.  
  
Harry felt dearly like saying Dumbledore was the one risking Harry's life, not Harry himself. He, Harry, was under Wormtail's scope and there was nothing to prevent Wormtail from using a knife or other means to make Harry's death quick. A cold chill made Harry's back twitch. He'd rather not think about it.  
  
The conversation was deemed over when Dumbledore pointed a long finger towards the marble staircase, beckoning Harry to return to bed. Harry had no intention of going to bed, however. He went back to the third floor corridor where Ron and Hermione were still standing. Harry explained to them what happened.  
  
"It's true then," said Ron. It was evident from the shakiness in his voice that he was just as frightened as Harry was. "Harry, you better watch your back. He won't care about using the Killing Curse..."  
  
"Yeah," said Harry gloomily, "don't need to tell me... Look, we're still going to the library, right?" he added a little more brightly, trying to curb the unsettling grumble in his stomach that kept screaming "you're gonna be dead by midnight tomorrow."  
  
Ron quickly nodded his head. Harry wasn't fooled. Ron still thought it was hopeless but in light of finding out that Wormtail was going to try to kill Harry, he would do anything to make Harry feel better. But it was hard to set aside the fact that someone wanted you dead and they were in the same place as you -- every day.  
  
As they were just about to leave the library that night, having found nothing, a figure strode in from the door. Harry prodded Ron and Hermione in the back and pointed to the person. Harry squinted to make out the dark face but there was no mistaking that silver hand.  
  
"Wormtail!" breathed Harry from under the Invisibility Cloak. Ron pinched Harry hard to shut him up.  
  
Wormtail walked silently over to an empty table, holding the Book of Memories in his hands yet again. If he waved his wand, if he made too sudden a movement... Harry was clutching his wand tightly.  
  
"Let's follow him, shall we?" suggested Harry. "Just to see what he's up to," he added quickly, noting the aggrivated look on Hermione's face.  
  
Wormtail sat down, opened the book and examined the contents. Harry read down the list as Wormtail did.  
  
1. Primer on Object Storage  
2. Storage  
3. Retrieval  
4. Shadows  
5. Natural Defenses  
Appendix A: Dementors  
Appendix B: Nota Vetustum  
  
"Appendix A: Dementors?" whispered Harry incredulously. "There's just a stupid appendix for what we needed it for that summer?"  
  
"Looks like it," whispered Ron.  
  
"Retrival... storage..." whispered Hermione. "Interesting..."  
  
"What the bloody hell does it mean by 'object storage'?" asked Ron.  
  
"I'd like to know what Appendix B is..."  
  
"Shh!" Harry whispered, taking the opportunity to pinch Ron back. "He'll hear us!"  
  
Wormtail opened the book to the section on Retrieval. Harry prodded Hermione, suggesting she memorize it and Hermione agreed, reading as fast as she could.  
  
Owing to the book's natural defenses when invoked, one must keep a clear mind and a set purpose when approaching. See chapter five for more details.  
  
1) Concentrate heavily on the object to be retrieved.  
2) Put hand on top of the closed cover of the book.  
3) Close eyes and picture object clearly in mind's eye.  
4) Stretch out other hand to side, flat, palm facing down.  
- If object is light enough to be held, close hand in fist.  
BE SURE TO LEAVE ENOUGH ROOM FOR OBJECT TO APPARATE!  
- If object is alive, hold arm, palm out, upper arm pointing forward, lower arm perpendicular to body  
THIS ALLOWS OBJECT TO FLY AND NOT FALL TO HIS/HER DEATH  
5) Incantation: Relatum id res. Convulsum id adsuetus nihil. Eloco nihil non hactenus non temere.  
  
Wormtail abruptly turned to the section on Storage after a good ten minutes. The process was exactly the same and Hermione took the time to memorize the storing incantation as well. Just as she finished memorizing it though, Wormtail snapped the book shut and left.  
  
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" said Harry, eyes wide open, heart going excitedly.  
  
"And that is?" asked Ron, anxiously awaiting Harry's answer.  
  
"The staff! That's how you get it! Now Wormtail knows and he's going to try then we'll all be dead. If it's that easy how come no one else has tried it?" Harry added furiously.  
  
"Maybe it's not that easy?" said Ron.  
  
"We're going to find out," said Harry firmly, turning to Ron who looked at Hermione, apparently scared that Harry was going to make them try it now. "Wormtail's going to try it as soon as he can and that's when he's going to steal it because no one's going to try to fight him carrying that staff."  
  
Harry sighed. "But right now my head hurts and I want to sleep," he added, looking at his watch, rubbing his forehead.  
  
Ron and Hermione nodded at Harry in agreement. There were both happy to hear Harry say that as it meant that he wasn't going to lose his mind over Wormtail and that he was still sensible -- or at least as sensible as one who wants to stay up until five in the morning reading books can be. Ron and Hermione wanted to see Sirius back as much as Harry did.  
  
On the way back to his room, Harry gazed at the Pensieve sitting upon his bedside table that he never used. Perhaps now was a good time to see if he could use it? There were a few too many things nagging at him and too many things keeping him wide awake to feel the least bit sleepy. He took the letter that came with it out from inside of it and read it again.  
  
You might find a use for this very soon.  
  
To use it, think of what you want to  
remove and put your wand to your  
forehead, just under your bangs.  
Twirl your wand to collect the  
thought while concentrating on  
extracting it from your forehead.  
  
You may not get it for a few weeks,  
as it took me a few hours of trying  
to get it at first.  
  
Happy Christmas  
  
Harry was still one hundred percent sure Dumbledore had sent it and he might as well see if he could work it. He pulled out his wand from inside his robes, sat on his four-post bed and faced the Pensieve, feeling very dumb. Harry twirled his wand in his fingers for a moment trying to decide which current memory was best to try and examine first. Maybe he would find something out that he hadn't seen before? But which to use... Wormtail's most recent attempt at stealing the book? Sirius? James... Griffith? The Order of Merlin plaque? What bothered him most, he couldn't clearly tell.  
  
As Ron began to snore, a voice in the back of Harry's head cried Voldemort.  
  
If he could just stop Voldemort from ever coming back, by finding out how he had prevented himself from dying -- twice now -- life would be grand. There was always the problem of his Death Eaters and their, or at least some of them, devotion to their "wonderful" Dark Lord. Harry despised calling him "Lord." He wasn't a Lord to anyone. He was just a pain and sometimes a very large pain. Yes, that would be perfect. If Harry could just put a memory of Voldemort in the Pensieve, look at it for a minute, see if anything else came to his head, something that might help him fall asleep...  
  
So, putting the tip of his wand just under his hairline -- and feeling dumb, for Mr. Weasley suggested Harry would never be able to manage it without a spell -- he concentrated hard on the very silly thing of forcing it onto the tip of his wand. Harry twirled his wand. Oddly excited, he was sure he saw something silvery coming from the top of his head as he slowly pulled the wand away. He looked at it... and frowned. There was nothing on it except a few loose hairs. Mr. Weasley was right.  
  
Dumbledore insisted Harry would be able to do it without a spell. Why? Harry had to question this -- he didn't think he'd be able to do it either. It would be a waste of his time though, to not practice. Maybe he just need to try a little harder? He has done a few spells nobody expected him to be able to do... the Patronus Charm for one (and driving off about a hundred dementors), the ice dragon... but he never managed to do something by just wishing it to happen... or had he?  
  
Harry put his wand back on his forehead and, this time, closed his eyes, concentrating hard on forcing the thought out of himself and onto his wand. Maybe he was concetrating too hard, it made his head hurt, but there was no other way he could think of. He sat for a few minutes, not pulling the wand away or twirling it (mostly to prolong the time until he saw that it had failed again). Harry thought wildly for a moment that he could put another thought into the Pensieve along with this one. That would make a good letter to taunt Mr. Weasley with but it was dumb to think he could do that. Really. He was going to have to spend a few days trying to get just one.  
  
Stupidly closing his eyes as hard as he could, Harry twirled his wand, feeling his hairs curl with it. He opened his eyes and took a look at it. To his great surprise, there were two small strands of the strange silvery-white substance that had filled up Dumbledore's Pensieve. Not only had he managed to work it but he managed to get two thoughts out at once! This left him with a lot of questions, sitting on his bed, looking at his handiwork.  
  
"You're a great wizard, you know," Hermione had once said to him to which he replied, "I'm not as good as you."  
  
Harry had always repeatedly denied to himelf that he wasn't good at all. After all, it was Hermione who repeatedly got the best grades in their year, not him. He also remembered that he only got six O.W.L.s...  
  
What had everyone kept repeating to HIM?  
  
"I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter," Mr. Ollivander had said to Harry and Harry couldn't forget that his wand shared cores with Voldemort. The same phoenix gave both wands their core and the brother of Voldemort's powerful, yew wand was keen on being a perfect match for Harry. That's what it is, Harry thought miserably, I've just got a powerful wand. But the Sorting Hat said it, too --  
  
"There's talent, ah my goodness, yes," it muttered in his ear. "You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head," it also whispered.  
  
Harry tried not to strain himself thinking too hard. All he knew was that if he tried hard, he usually could do it and then a strange thought hit him. He really was the great wizard everyone expected him to turn out to be... was he? The thought made his head pound... and it was already hurting from sleepiness.  
  
Okay, Harry finally thought to himself, enough wondering. You're going to drive yourself nuts. Stick these two thoughts ino the Pensieve, take a quick look... and go to sleep, he told himself sharply.  
  
He did so and watched them settle to the bottom of the Pensieve. The first one he knew. The pitiless face of Voldemort swirled around, his snake-like eyes going from thin lines of hatred to ones that resembled Dobby's tennis ball-sized eyes.  
  
The second one he didn't recognize right away. There was just a forest but he had seen enough forests to do his own show on National Geographic, the Muggle television station. Forget it, Harry told himself, you're tired. He tilted his head back, turning it from side to side, stretching his stiff neck (he hadn't moved it for several minutes while he stared at his wand). He meant to stretch his arms, too, but a distant, echoing and cold voice coming from the Pensieve made him stop abruptly.  
  
"Death become that boy when I find him," it said.  
  
It was Voldemort. Harry leaned over the Pensieve to see what it was.  
  
"M-master, he has lived twice now!" quivered Wormtail.  
  
"I know," said Voldemort coldly, "and I don't need your patheticness to remind me..."  
  
"H-how then can we revive you? The boy will have g-great protection, s-surely we can't simply-"  
  
"Silence."  
  
Harry didn't pay much attention to their surroundings. He suddenly remembered the dream almost completely again.  
  
Voldemort shook his head in disgust.  
  
"W-what, m-master?"  
  
"Please get away from me as there is enough filth from the ground without you near."  
  
They stopped talking for a while and then...  
  
"WE NEED IT, WORMTAIL!" said Voldemort loudly and immediately --   
  
"No!" shrieked Dean.  
  
"He's back!" exclaimed Seamus.  
  
Neville simply screamed.  
  
"Harry!" shouted Ron.  
  
Voldemort's scream had woken them up. Harry didn't take notice that they were all staring at him nor did he take notice of footsteps coming closer to his dormitory.  
  
"YOU WILL HELP!" Voldemort continued. "YOU WILL NOT FAIL ME! - if you follow what I have told you correctly..."  
  
"I will, master," said Wormtail, "I will..."  
  
"You will what?" asked Voldemort suddenly, sharply and loudly. "You will fail me?"  
  
"No, my Lord!" pleaded Wormtail, "I won't fail!"  
  
"If you do, Wormtail, you know what's coming..."  
  
Voldemort laughed coldly and thankfully, this time not causing any pain in Harry's scar. Harry watched as the picture of Voldemort and Wormtail faded into nothing but a silvery mess.  
  
Neville, Dean, Seamus and Ron sat, staring transfixed at Harry, their eyes darting between him and the jar Harry was staring at. They looked too shocked to actually speak. They had heard Voldemort's voice, something that would send shockwaves down anyone's spine. Neville looked like he would never speak, ever again.  
  
A bunch of seventh and fifth years were standing in the common room. Hermione had walked in, still rubbing her eyes.  
  
"I just remembered something," said Harry innocently, trying to ignore the fact that they all wanted to know why Voldemort had been screaming in their ears. He looked around at them all before fixing his blank gaze at the Pensieve again. "That was the dream I had on the train the day my scar hurt, Ron," he went on slowly and softly, dropping all pretense at hiding his fear. Harry turned his scared eyes to Ron for a second and then went back to blankly staring at the Pensieve. "All the things we've been thinking... everything we might have questioned... they're true... and there's nothing to question," Harry said, his voice trembling. "Wormtail's faking everything so he can figure out how to work the book... take it... kill me... then run..."  
  
Neville pointed a trembling finger in the direction of the Pensieve and squeaked. Harry slowly turned his head to look at Neville and then at his finger.  
  
"This?" Harry asked, raising the Pensieve, darting his eyes back to it. Neville nodded. "It's a Pensieve. Dumbledore sent it to me for Christmas. You can put thoughts into it and look at them. I got two out at once but I didn't know what the second one was when I pulled it out... Go ahead and tell everyone about it. Once Dumbledore finds out that I'm scared to death, then he'll do something..."  
  
Plenty of silence followed Harry's speech. Hermione was gaping at him, Ginny at her side, who had her mouth open in a sort of silent scream.  
  
Harry threw his dad's Warmth Cloak over the Pensieve to drown out any voices that might start talking again and stuffed the Pensieve in a drawer. Saying he was scared to death was an understatement.  
  
He took off his jewelry -- the Order of Merlin necklace, his golden wristwatch -- put them all on his bedside table, closed the curtains and stared up at the top of his four-poster, heart drumming against his chest, beads of sweat lining his brow. He didn't think he'd ever fall asleep that night when he half expected Wormtail to come running in holding the Book of Memories and then say a few words from it... causing Harry to have a most painful death. 


	20. The Revival

Chapter 20: THE REVIVAL  
  
Harry woke up the next morning, still alive, though he half wished it would just end as he never felt more scared in his life. He wasn't surprised to hear Ron tell him that Hermione had asked Neville, Dean, Seamus and Ron if she could sleep in their dormitory. They all agreed but she had nearly shattered her bed in the process. He wouldn't have minded...  
  
Having found out that Wormtail was going to eventually try the unthinkable, Ron told Harry that he and Hermione agreed to follow Harry wherever he went. Neville, if possible, looked to be shaking more than the previous night.  
  
Harry felt Dumbledore was quite right about keeping the attempted theft silent. The school was in enough panic, especially with the threat of Voldemort rising again. The Daily Prophet article had spread around the school as well and most everyone had taken to practicing Professor Trelawney's famous tragic look whenever they looked at Harry.  
  
Harry arrived quite late into the Great Hall that morning and felt hundreds of eyes following him, Cho running up to him, crying, as he sat down between Ron and Hermione. He had kept his word to Dumbledore that he wouldn't tell anyone (except Ron and Hermione of course) about Wormtail's attempted theft but word had spread throughout the entire school about Harry's dream during breakfast that morning faster than you could say "help me." Unfortunately, this did nothing but send everyone in the Great Hall into hysterics.  
  
Dumbledore had not done a thing but then Harry remembered he had been in the Great Hall not thirty seconds. He couldn't do anything yet... but he had obviously heard about the dream as Dumbledore caught his eye when Harry was walking in and simply shook his head. This further upset Harry.  
  
Hermione had something else on her mind though as Hedwig dropped another small, grubby package in front of Harry.  
  
"OPEN THE STUPID THING!" she roared.  
  
"Fine, fine."  
  
Harry picked it up, a dull twinkle in his eye. It wasn't very heavy. It was still barely an inch high and three inches wide. He suddenly remembered the small box his handsome, golden wristwatch had come in as he continued to weigh it in his hand.  
  
Harry picked up a knife to carve the plain white paper off as it was wrapped very tightly around the box. The box itself was white as well and he opened it. Inside the package was a letter and some more paper, which was so thin you could almost see through it. The present was evidently inside it.  
  
He pulled it out and took the paper off. What was inside it made him drop it onto the table with a clatter and stand up suddenly from his seat, a hand over his mouth, eyes wide in astonishment. Ron and Hermione did exactly the same thing. Neville, Dean and Seamus, who were all watching as Harry revealed the contents, followed suit.  
  
"Oh my God," breathed Harry.  
  
"It's a bracelet," said Dean.  
  
"But there's a small bit of fire swirling all around the band," said Seamus.  
  
"Touch it already," said Hermione.  
  
"But it's on fire! It's going to burn his hand!" said Ron.  
  
"It hasn't burned the paper, has it?" Hermione scoffed.  
  
Receeding back to their seats, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Dean and Seamus watched as Harry picked it up. Indeed, it didn't burn his fingers. He held it in his hand and still, it did not burn. Harry went to put it on his left wrist, the band ominously growing and shrinking on it's own as he moved it over his hand. As soon as he stopped moving it, the band shrunk once more to fit perfectly and the small bit of fire consumed the entire silver band at once. And still, it did not burn. The bracelet glowed like fire, scary and beautiful at the same time.  
  
"Wow."  
  
Harry put his other hand on it, causing the band to grow to full size and he slid it off easily. He held it while he looked at the note that came with it.  
  
"Read it already," said Ron overcome with anticipation, staring at the fiery bracelet. Harry read it aloud.  
  
Harry! Professor Dumbledore said it would be okay if  
I gave this to you. Your mom owned it. We're not sure  
what it does, it doesn't seem to do anything but we  
do know that the fire around the band don't burn  
and it grows and shrinks as you put it on. It won't  
grow over six inches though. It doesn't scratch, it  
doesn't fade, get it as wet as you like and try to  
break it all you want. You just can't ruin it.  
  
Happy Christmas,  
Hagrid  
  
His mom's... Lily Potter once owned this. He put it on again and felt a mother's warmth rush through his hands up to the rest of his body. It was a great feeling to say the least. Harry turned his hand, palm facing down and made a fist to get a better look at the strange bracelet. Once before he had been sent something, the Invisibility Cloak, but that was sent anonymously. Perhaps Dumbledore figured there was no stopping Harry from finding the Staff of Cybele? Had he found out that Harry knew about it? It wasn't too far fetched -- Dumbledore knew lots of things. But how was this going to help...  
  
Harry turned his hand over and opened his fist but he jumped at what had appeared in it. Hermione screeched. A small ball of fire fell out of his hand. It hit the ground and fizzled.  
  
"I've read about a lot of things," Hermione said, a look of awe on her face, "but I've never heard about a bracelet that creates fireballs." After she finished, she kept looking at it, speechless. It was definitely a first.  
  
Harry didn't put much thought into what he did next, he just wanted to know if he could make a bigger fireball and it only seemed natural. He closed one hand into a fist and folded his other hand over it. Immediately, he felt a lot of heat, though not enough to cause discomfort, suddenly erupt in his closed fist. Slowly, he opened the fist and separated his hands...  
  
A humongous ball of fire was expanding between them, crackling and spitting. The six of them didn't seem to notice the entirety of the Great Hall, some standing on the tables to get a better look, including the professors, were staring. Harry flicked his hands outwards and the now three foot wide ball of fire dropped to the ground, fizzling. They didn't seem to do any damage, they just seemed to be for show.  
  
Professor Dumbledore came over (who looked to have forgotten all about Harry's dream), followed closely by Hagrid and Professor McGonagall.  
  
"Potter!" shrieked Professor McGonagall.  
  
She looked both half scared to death and very happy at the same time. Harry took note of the small patch of wet hair in Hagrid's tangled beard. Professor Dumbledore was simply beaming.  
  
"Yeh finally found out what it does!" said Hagrid.  
  
"More like he just opened it," scowled Hermione.  
  
"Jus' - just opened it?" Harry felt himself go as red as the bracelet.  
  
"Er -- thought it was another rotten 'present' from the Dursleys," he said, suddenly very interested in his feet.  
  
"Your mother kept a load of interesting artifacts," said Dumbledore. "Most of them were destroyed. I believe she called that one a Phoenix Bracelet. I hesitated in letting you have it because I was not sure myself what it does. It's possible it does more than just conjure fireballs. I daresay, they probably don't fizzle when they hit something alive so do be careful," he added, eyes glittering.  
  
Everyone mindlessly marveled at the beautiful fire dancing around the band for a few minutes. It was dazzling and shocking at the same time and you couldn't help but wonder what else it might be able to do. Harry wasn't as interested in the way it looks as he was interested in who it's previous owner was. Everything he got from them was like having a part of them returned.  
  
"But can't I just make it look like an accident!" Harry pleaded with Hermione after breakfast had ended. He was referring to Pettigrew.  
  
"No," said Hermione sharply. "But it may just come in handy if we meet anything bad down there tonight."  
  
Harry was at least pleased to hear she hadn't backed out of trying to retrieve the Staff of Cybele. He was not pleased to hear Professor Trelawney say later in the day that he was going to die within the next month. Harry gave her a very angry look, brandishing his mother's bracelet at her. He occassionally took a few seconds to marvel at it, twisting it and watching the fire that consumed the band dance around. It hypnotized him.  
  
They finally worked up the nerve to mention Pettigrew to Professor Snape one afternoon. After class ended, Harry casually crossed over to Snape's desk and motioned for Ron and Hermione to leave. If they stayed, it might look like they were interrogating him. So, as Snape was packing up to leave --  
  
"It's just a shame you didn't get Pettigrew expelled, Professor," said Harry casually.  
  
Snape then did something Harry thought he would never see. He gave a short-lived smile but went straight back to looking his usual, pale self.  
  
"I never liked Peter," Snape said quickly, coldly and quietly. He stopped stuffing things back onto the shelves and stared into space for a moment, then realized what he was doing (or wasn't, for that matter) and started putting jars away again. He didn't seem to want to talk. At all.  
  
Harry needed to say something fast otherwise the conversation would be over. He searched around for a few things. Maybe mention that... that it wasn't all bad how Snape followed them around?  
  
"I guess it wasn't so bad, you following them around. Could have managed to have Pettigrew expelled... would have saved a lot of us some trouble," said Harry.  
  
Now that he had said it, Harry almost felt angry that Pettigrew never got expelled.  
  
"What do you want, Potter?" growled Snape.  
  
This wasn't working. Maybe it was better to just say it outright?  
  
"I just want to know why you hated -"  
  
"You may go, Potter, you'll be late for your next class," said Snape hastily, his voice dropping off as he finished speaking.  
  
"But, it's lunchtime..."  
  
"Then I'm sure you're hungry," Snape said, pointing a longer finger at the door of the classroom.  
  
Harry, slightly disgruntled that Snape wouldn't tell, wasted no time in preparing for getting the Staff of Cybele that night. They took the Invisbility Cloak, all their wands, the Sneakoscope ("I don't know, just in case," Ron insisted, "because what if someone's around us and knows we're there?"), the Marauder's Map of Hogwarts so they could see if anyone was coming, the Dragonback and the last bit of nerves they had remaining after the dementor incident. They all thought they were doing it against their better judgement.  
  
The journey down to the third floor was uneventful. Snape's dot on the map snored away in it's office. Peeves was bobbing up and down on the first floor. The dot labeled Argus Filch was in it's office and Harry could swear he was oiling the chains he kept in case the old punishments, hanging students by their wrists in the dungeons, were ever brought back.  
  
"All right," said Harry when they finally got inside Fluffy's old room, "don't think of anything."  
  
"Oh! I almost forgot!" Hermione blurted out. She pulled out three vials of the Mind-Blanker potions they had made.  
  
"Brilliant!" said Ron as it hit Harry, too.  
  
"Take this and your mind won't wander off on anything except what you're doing. I made it this morning, weak enough so that you won't forget anything important but strong enough so that it works."  
  
"I'm starting to think Dumbledore knows we're doing this," said Harry.  
  
"No way," Ron insisted. "He'll have our heads. And give yours to Pettigrew."  
  
"Don't remind me..."  
  
"Shut up, you two, and let's go," Hermione snapped.  
  
They flew the Dragonback down the trap door once again, lit their wands and peered around. It was, thankfully, empty. There were no strange sounds, no animals to speak of and no bone-chilling feelings produced by nearby dementors. Unfortunately, three bad encounters down here, all progressively worse, weren't put to rest by the Mind-Blanker potion -- they were just too strong. Not caring what Ron and Hermione would say, Harry clutched the Order of Merlin plaque, giving the Dragonback to Ron, who took it with glee, just to get rid of the sick feeling in his stomach that, even with the potion, they were going to see something even more horrifying than reliving Harry's death. He couldn't think of anything more terrifying, a testament to how scared he felt. He didn't want any more dementors causing him to hear his parent's screaming, terrified voices, the thought of Wormtail wanting him dead hanging over his head... or did he?  
  
Harry felt a rushing warmth seep through him. He then took a few seconds to look at the Phoenix Bracelet his mother had once owned, checking to see if it was a dream or not that he had actually gotten something from his mother. He marveled at the fire consuming the gorgeous, silver band that danced all around. It was a sight to behold. Harry realized he now had three items from his parents: an Invisbility Cloak, a Warmth Cloak (that he originally thought was just a normal cloak) and a Phoenix Bracelet, two of which being very rare items indeed.  
  
Harry's heart skipped. He felt braver.  
  
"Right," he said, "let's go."  
  
Ron suggested Harry conjure a small fireball just in case. If all else failed, they could scare whatever they saw by pelting it with tiny balls of fire and run for it, or at the very least, toss a huge Hagrid-sized one at it and confuse it.  
  
They tried dearly not to think about any of that as they crossed the flying key room, the giant chess board, the troll room and exited through the potions room into the last dark, stone floored chamber. It was empty. There was no basilisk. There was, however, something they hadn't seen before. The Book of Memories was standing on a stone pedastal in the middle of the room. It was completely dark except for the light of their wands.  
  
Ron made a run for it but Hermione put a hand out in front of him.  
  
"What if it's cursed or something?" she said. Ron hadn't thought of that.  
  
"Well Miss Know-Everything, how do you suggest we -" asked Ron but he was interrupted by Harry.  
  
"Oh forget both of you," said Harry as he walked up to the pedastal, perhaps feeling a bit more daring than he should have.  
  
At first, he got a good look at it and it was exactly as he saw it last time close-up. The front cover, perfectly flat and untextured, was made of pure gold. The same words Harry saw last time, "Libri Intus Memoriae," still made no sense to him. A silver string extended out from the top of the spine, a place-holder for the pearly-white pages.  
  
He put a hand on the side of the front cover in an attempt to open it but before he could move another muscle, the front cover opened itself, passing through his hand as if it were a ghost. As it passed, it sent shivers up and down his arm, making his hand so cold it went numb. But that wasn't all.  
  
His eyes forced themselves shut and an image flashed across them. There were no screams, just his father, a horribly frightened look on his face, staring directly at Harry. Startled, Harry pulled his hand away and jumped back. The book closed with a snap. His eyes opened.  
  
"What the..." he spluttered. "Did - did you see that? It passed through my hand and I - I saw..."  
  
He didn't have to finish the sentence as they knew perfectly well what he saw. Ron and Hermione stepped closer. The three of them stared at it as if it were going to grow fangs and bite them. Then they remembered they shouldn't think of that because it just might happen.  
  
Pull yourself together, Harry told himself, this is no time to be seeing images of your parents.  
  
"You don't want to open it," Hermione whispered, breaking the unsettling silence. "You want to use a spell. Here, let me."  
  
Harry, his hand still feeling like he dipped it in a bucket of sub-zero water, still disturbed at the image he saw, didn't argue the point. He held his numb hand with his other hand, a feeble attempt to put feeling back into it and backed away, trying to forget what he saw. Hermione took her turn.  
  
She put her hand on the book, concentrating on using the retrieval spell and the book stayed closed. Instead, a faint, golden glitter escaped the pearly-white pages, lighting up the room a little better.  
  
Hermione put her other hand out exactly as she read to do, closed her fist and, her voice a little shaky, she said, "Relatum id res. Convulsum id adsuetus nihil. Eloco nihil non hactenus non temere."  
  
Nothing happened. She looked at Harry and Ron, the golden glitter fading away as she removed her hands. Both of them shrugged, confused.  
  
"Try again," said Ron.  
  
Hermione positioned her hands again (the golden glitter reappearing) and said the words again. Still, nothing happened. She became slightly agitated, the golden glitter disappearing again as she pulled her hand away.  
  
"Harry, you try," she said, stamping her feet at her failure. "This is a lot harder than anything we've done so far and it doesn't help being on this potion!"  
  
"No way," Harry refused. "My hand's going to be numb for hours and I'm not touching that thing again. I'd just love to know why it only affects me..."  
  
Hermione grunted and stamped her feet again. "Urgh! What are we going to do!" she growled.  
  
"Keep trying!" said Harry and stupidly pointing both hands at the book. "I'm not wasting my time down here. This is going to work or I'm going to die trying!"  
  
"Don't say that," said Ron softly, looking at Harry nervously. "Just don't say that, Harry."  
  
"If we go back, we risk getting caught," said Harry, acting as if he was ignoring Ron but wishing he hadn't said it, too. "We might as well try while we're down here. If Dumbledore knows we're doing this..."  
  
"Okay," said Hermione. "But only once more and then you're trying next time." She set her hands in place one last time, the faint, golden glitter reappearing, and said, "Relatum id res. Convulsum id adsuetus nihil. Eloco nihil non hactenus non temere."  
  
Instantly, the faint, golden glitter became a blinding white glow. After a moment, the book's cover opened and the pages fluttered as if a wind were blowing hard on it. As that happened, misty, gray smoke escaped the pages and wrapped around Hermione's outstretched hand. Her, Harry and Ron gaped at it, eyes wide in astonishment, all three of them fearing it might turn into something to kill them.  
  
The misty, gray smoke stretched out left to right from Hermione's hand, forming an object. To their great relief, it wasn't forming a monster. It wasn't even scary but it was definitely strange. The smoke became more and more solid, stretching out farther and farther until it stopped at about four feet long, tip to tip. The misty smoke twisted and shaped and became strangely like a staff. Hermione dropped it at once as the smoke turned into, well, what it turned into, finishing it's transformation. The bright, white glow from the Book of Memories died out and it closed.  
  
All three of them stared at the strange staff on the floor. Hermione quickly dropped her hands. Harry was the one who found his voice first.  
  
"So it's true," he said, his voice hoarse with shock. "The staff... and it's just as Mr. Ollivander described it."  
  
"Do you realize this thing hasn't been seen in several - thousand - years?" said Ron, staring, awestruck.  
  
The staff was exactly as Mr. Ollivander had described, down to every last detail except one: It was only four feet long. At the very top, what appeared to be a skunk's mouth had it's jaws over a crystal that was the purest of whites. The mouth was attached to the body of a squirrel, which stretched all the way down to the bottom, ending in a squirrel's tail. But it didn't look very well-kept. It was dingy, the markings on it were hard to make out. The handle looked rusty -- if that was possible -- and the crystal was scratched in many places.  
  
Suddenly, something hit Harry. It was't a squirrel at all.  
  
"It's a badger," he said. "That's Hufflepuff's animal. Weird. Well, pick it up," he added, looking at Hermione.  
  
"Are you crazy?" said Hermione furiously. "I'm likely to kill all of us if I grab it wrong! You remember what Mrs. Weasley said? 'You could end up striking yourself dead if you don't control it!'"  
  
"You actually remembered that?" Ron asked flatly.  
  
"Great. Now that we have it, what do we do with it?" said Harry. That was a very good question. Should they tell Dumbledore? But there was another question as well. "It doesn't look to be in very good condition and all the books said it was to be seven feet long."  
  
"No," said Hermione hastily, "one book I read said it was four. With all them saying different things about how it looks, I'm not surprised."  
  
"How about we just put it back," said Harry. Ron and Hermione stared at him. They knew very well it was his dearest ambition to use the the staff to revive Sirius and here he was saying to just put it back. But he wasn't thinking that alone -- and that was the problem. "We know it's here, that's great. And we can get it but I'm starting to think of other things and... any minute, you know..."  
  
Ron and Hermione nodded. They felt it too -- the potion was wearing off.  
  
"We should fly out with the Dragonback," said Ron quickly. "And hurry."  
  
There was a faint pop and they all turned to look at it's source. The pedastal had vanished and so had the Book of Memories. They exchanged terrified looks. Any minute...  
  
They heard a soft growl, but couldn't make it out.  
  
Hermione closed her eyes and hesitantly picked up the staff.  
  
"Hurry up!" shouted Ron.  
  
Hermione put her other hand where the Book used to be(knowing it was in the right spot because the faint golden glitter returned) and said, "Reconditum id res. Id insertare nihil. Eloco nihil non hactenus non temere!"  
  
It only took one try and thankfully, it worked. The staff was engulfed with the same misty smoke that had brought it into existence and the staff disappeared from their sight within seconds.  
  
No sooner had Harry engorged his broomstick then they all heard another growl, a terrible growl, louder than the last one, that sounded horribly inhuman. It was soft yet blood-curdling, it made their skin crawl, their blood run cold. The three of them mounted the Dragonback and let Harry fly as fast as his Quidditch-born reflexes and daring would allow.  
  
Scared but calming themselves down, one by one they climbed off the Dragonback and out through the trapdoor as soon as they reached it. They threw the invisibility cloak on themselves and leaned against a wall inside Fluffy's room.  
  
"I didn't want to say it down there but I was thinking of a Nundu and how you said they were the most dangerous creatures known," said Harry, looking at Hermione.  
  
"You actually remembered that?" she snapped.  
  
"Well, we got out safe, didn't we?" said Harry. He was quite right, of course. Had he not hastily suggested they leave...  
  
They opened the door to head back. Apparently, someone didn't want their night's surprises to end. Wormtail was standing just outside.  
  
"I-I know you're there," he said, his robes askew. "B-but you have to trust me!"  
  
At that moment, Hermione pulled out the Sneakoscope. Looking down, Harry and Ron noticed it, too. It wasn't buzzing, spinning or doing anything of the sort it would do if someone nearby should be lying. Ron mouthed something that looked a lot like, "It's not broken, is it?" Hermione scowled.  
  
Harry knew very well it wasn't broken as he had used it the day before in Herbology to make sure Professor Sprout wasn't lying to Neville that his grade so far this year wasn't as good it was the previous years. But she was lying. She just wanted Neville to try harder ("It comes so easy to him," she finally admitted, "and he barely works!").  
  
"What is it, then?" spat Harry.  
  
"M-my old master," stuttered Wormtail, "you can't let him have that book..."  
  
So, after all this time, it was Lord Voldemort that Wormtail was referring to.  
  
"What about all those times I saw you trying to steal it?"  
  
"Someone else w-working for the Dark Lord! I ran! W-why else do you think I've been so frightened! I heard about the Dark Lord's new plans a-and I thought about who had once shown me great mercy. You, Harry! You spared my life when I thought it was about to end... Y-you saved me..."  
  
Harry had a terrible kind of struggle going on inside him. Here stood the man who had changed his life for the worse, forever. Yet here also stood the man who was telling undeniable truth and he was about to spit out something very important. Harry didn't know whether to kill him or kiss him.  
  
"If I didn't save you that time," said Harry furiously, the usual rage beginning to course through him again, "Lord Voldemort would never have come back."  
  
"Wonderful," said Hermione, sounding just as furious as Harry. "Now tell us what Voldemort is up to." Ron and Harry stared. She had said the name. They tried not to stare too long as Hermione would eventually take notice.  
  
"He needs the body of one wizard a-and the blood of another," sputtered Wormtail. "I knew you were looking for the Staff! So last night I... I purposely let you see. Dumbledore doesn't know about that. The blood will be yours, I know that! And the body... the body... will be --" but who it was going to be, Wormtail couldn't say. It was painfully obvious from the way Wormtail broke out crying that it was going to be him.  
  
"How are they going to get my blood?" said Harry, some of his rage leaving, letting him talk a little more calmly. "And who the hell is going to do it! Voldemort is in no shape and his Death Eaters aren't exactly up to the job of breaking into the school. There's no one they can disguise themselves as..."  
  
Dumbledore would definitely be sure to check for impostors. Hermione assured them that it was possible to check for Polyjuice Potion: a True-Seeing potion was made for that. They pondered it for a moment among it's other uses. If they were all safe inside Hogwarts, how can someone possibly...  
  
"Dementors," Wormtail murmered slowly. "They are on his side..."  
  
"Oh my God," said Harry, Ron and Hermione in unison, terrified as if they heard the blood-curdling growl again. They dropped the Invisibility Cloak on accident and stood transfixed at each other. Harry felt as if someone slipped an ice dragon down his back.  
  
Again not caring what anyone thought, Harry clutched the Order of Merlin plaque and felt slightly, ever so slightly, calmer. But it wasn't going to do much good considering what Wormtail just said -- he felt the effect fading.  
  
"The stubborn and stupid Minister of Magic never removed them from Azkaban! The dementors j-joined the Dark Lord as soon as he asked during his time! Y-you have to help me!" said Wormtail, clutching Harry's hand.  
  
Indeed, dementors had Apparated on school grounds just the previous year, plunging everyone into a panic. Teachers conjured Patronus', Harry made his own that scared away quite a few dementors... But now that Voldemort no longer had the mark of ancients, that wouldn't be possible... would it?  
  
For now, Harry couldn't think of anything at the moment except for seeing a hoarde of dementors charge into the school, performing the dementor's kiss on anyone they came across.  
  
It was when Ron and Hermione clutched Harry's upper arm in fear, with Wormtail falling to the floor because his knees would no longer support him, did Harry feel like a few notes of phoenix song had cut through the air. It had always come at his darkest hour and it always ensured him a victory. It was the sound of hope and was still the most beautiful and welcome thing he had ever heard.  
  
But there was just one problem: there was no source. There was no Fawkes and the Phoenix Bracelet on his wrist was just... no, it was when he looked down at the bracelet to see where Wormtail had fallen that he heard it. Looking at it again, he remembered that it used to be his mother's. Even in death, the very thought made him feel stronger. He couldn't explain it to himself if he tried, he just liked to get things his parents once owned. It made him feel better. It warmed him. It made him feel like he had parents.  
  
They're counting on you, Harry, he thought to himself, they're counting on you.  
  
And then Harry understood something... but there was another terrible struggle going on inside of him. Dumbledore had threatened to expell him but it was only to keep him in line, to keep him out of harm's way as, right now, he so very was. Dumbledore's words rung in his ears. "Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy..."  
  
It would be easy... to keep it quiet, pretending that nothing was going to happen... and then wait idly by while Voldemort's plan continues. It would be easy to tell Dumbledore what Wormtail had told them... but Wormtail didn't seem to think that Dumbledore would do much... and he would certainly not get Harry involved. It would be easy... to sit in the corner of a dark room... crumpled up on the floor... wishing to disappear.  
  
Sirius would have to wait. The right thing to do was to take matters into his own hands and do the unthinkable.  
  
"We have to take the Staff somewhere else," said Harry.  
  
"Where?" asked Hermione.  
  
"I don't know," Harry replied, feeling very anxious and not sure if what he was about to say was really the right thing, "but it's either wait and let Voldemort do whatever he's got planned or at the very least, prevent him from getting the Staff. I, for one, don't want a horde of dementors coming here again. Dumbledore's not going to like it but I don't care. He probably expects me to do something but he just doesn't know what. Now would you lot let go of me, I can't feel my fingers -- thanks."  
  
"What, we're just going to... to take the Staff... and run?" asked Ron, staring disbelievingly at his crazy hero.  
  
"Yeah," said Harry firmly, "that's the plan. And when this whole thing blows over, then I can revive Sirius."  
  
Ron, Hermione and Wormtail looked at Harry like he had just lost his mind. Everyone agreed to it, but no one, not even Harry, thought it was going to do any good. No one but them would know it had been retrieved from the Book and no one would know it was up in their dormitory. The book was highly unprotected except for it's own defense, which seemed to be that it projected memories someone was thinking of. Of course, they reasoned, whoever wanted to steal it, wouldn't know... would they?  
  
Their heads couldn't take anymore. Harry, Ron and Hermione put the Invisibility Cloak back on themselves. Wormtail headed off to wherever he stays at night and the trio headed back to Gryffindor Tower, the Fat Lady giving them a good telling off for coming back so late. 


	21. Fluffy and the Phoenix Bracelet

Chapter 21: FLUFFY AND THE PHOENIX BRACELET  
  
The following morning, Harry suggested whatever would happen, would not happen in one night. Wormtail would be killed, Harry would have his blood taken and then they would go after the Book. Hermione suggested this order. She thought the person would cause an almighty uproar if the Book was stolen first and that would prevent the person from getting Harry's blood and killing Wormtail. Both things would happen at night and Harry would never know they took blood from him, except, they thought, that he would have one of his dreams and that would let him know.  
  
Also, they could not retrieve the staff and store it for long. Someone would notice a four foot long, ancient staff hiding in Harry's dormitory eventually... It couldn't be stored in someone's trunk, the crystal might crack. It couldn't be left out in the open, that was just dumb. It could only be kept under the Invisbility Cloak for a day at best. They would steal the Book of Memories too but Dumbledore would notice it missing...  
  
They took all of this to be true; no one seemed to have anything to say otherwise.  
  
During breakfast, Harry tried desperately to tell everyone -- everyone -- that Wormtail was really on their side. No one wanted to hear it. Dumbledore, as they highly expected him to, did not come to help but Harry was better for it. He didn't think he could face Dumbledore with what he was hiding.  
  
Harry tried to enjoy the days, continually dreading what he knew was about to happen any day now. They all thought they better wait a few days, just in case something, anything, came up. It was March and the smell of Spring cut through Hogwarts like never before. Except Harry, Ron and Hermione couldn't enjoy it like every time before.  
  
The trees of the forbidden forest turned green again and the air became warmer. Harry no longer froze solid when walking around the lake with Cho. As an added bonus, he found that when he was around her, he felt slightly more at ease, able to better put the bad things out of his head.  
  
But he quickly learned that Mr. Weasley's advice was nothing but the easy way out as he continually reminded himself about Dumbledore's words -- and the fact that he reminded Harry of them after two years. He couldn't just put it out of his mind. It was to stay there, right up front, because, well, he couldn't really explain it but he thought it was a lot like saying You-Know-Who versus saying Voldemort. Dumbledore had once said "fear of the name increases fear of the thing itself." Yeah, Harry thought, something like that...  
  
After a few more days of getting increasingly edgy (Hermione jumped when you mentioned Wormtail to her, Ron laughed nervously if you mentioned secrets to him and Harry kept oddly silent if you asked him what he thought about something), they decided to consult someone they weren't entirely sure they should be consulting --  
  
"Hagrid," said Harry, "what d'you think?"  
  
"The three of yeh like ter get in trouble, don' yeh?" Hagrid replied. The usual warmth in his beetle-black eyes seemed to have gone missing.  
  
He stepped out of the doorway, let them in and tended to a pot of tea he had been brewing.  
  
"We don't WANT to get in trouble," said Harry loudly, sitting down on a huge armchair, "but whoever's going to steal the Book is going to eventually find out the Staff is in it and is going to get it!"  
  
"Blimey, you don' want me ter believe the Staff really exists, do yeh?"  
  
"HAGRID!" roared Hermione. "It does exist! I saw it with my own eyes! Four feet long, a badger's head biting on a crystal, a badger's body making up the staff handle and the end was a tail! It fell right out of my hand!"  
  
Hagrid sighed. He didn't look like he was going to swallow the whole story.  
  
"Look," said Ron, "if we bring you the stupid thing, will you believe us?"  
  
Hagrid's eyes widened but Harry couldn't tell if it was shock or excitement. Hagrid quickly noticed what he was doing and poured the tea into a goblet, not realizing it was still cold.  
  
"Okay," said Harry. "We'll get it once more and bring it here. How's that? We have the Invisibility Cloak. Tonight."  
  
"I don' like yeh breakin' rules on'y for just lettin' me see the staff," said Hagrid hesitantly. "But I would like ter see it fer meself... Fine. Just don' get caught. If yeh do..."  
  
"I know, I know," Harry muttered.  
  
Hagrid took a sip.  
  
"Blech!" he exclaimed, spitting it out on a fairly empty spot on the floor. "Silly me, forgot it was still cold." He went as red as Ron's hair.  
  
So that night, they journeyed down into the dungeons below Fluffy's room to retrieve the Staff of Cybele once again. They would just show it to Hagrid and then store it again, waiting for the right time to retrieve it and keep it. It was, again, uneventful thanks to Hermione's potion. She failed twice, begging Harry to try after her second failure, complaining loudly when the book cover went through her hand, making it so numb she couldn't feel it.   
  
"Now you know how my hand felt," Harry taunted.  
  
Hermione gave him a dirty look and tried twice more, succeeding on the fourth, dropping the staff once again.  
  
"Come on, let's bring this to Hagrid," said Ron hastily, in an attempt to avoid a conflict.  
  
When they arrived at Hagrid's hut, Hagrid stared at the Staff of Cybele before any sound actually accompanied his moving lips.  
  
Hagrid's mouth opened and closed a few more times before Harry burst out, "It's just a staff, Hagrid."  
  
"Blimey, Harry," said Hagrid, finally able to move his eyes from the Staff of Cybele to something else (in this case, Harry). "That's not just a staff! People have been lookin' fer it ever since it was lost several thousand years ago!"  
  
"Why would anyone want to put this thing in a book, anyway?" Ron asked, sitting down (Harry, Hagrid and Hermione followed suit).  
  
"I don' know," said Hagrid thoughtfully. "But I coulda sworn it was seven feet long, not four."  
  
"There were so many conflicts in books about what it looks like," said Hermione matter-of-factly, "I'm surprised it didn't turn out to have the head of a chicken, the body of a goat and be ten feet long."  
  
"Let me hold it," said Ron.  
  
Hermione gave it to Ron, who marveled at the pure white crystal at the tip of the badger's mouth.  
  
"It's scratched very bad," said Ron, looking at it closely. "I wonder if it still works?" He started to wave it but Hagrid immediately jumped up and put one of his massive hands on Ron's arm, stopping him.  
  
"Better not do that, it's likely ter explode or summat," said Hagrid cautiously. "Your dad has a nice scar on his arm from one staff that didn't take ter him," he added, grinning.  
  
"He told me already," Ron said in a small voice.  
  
After much ado about the staff, Hagrid finally agreed to part with it. Careful usage of the Marauder's Map meant that they met no one on the way to the third floor corridor and back towards Gryffindor Tower.  
  
Rain lashed the windows of Hogwarts in March for the third day in a row one muggy morning. The entire school was getting geared up for the last match of the Quidditch season, the match that would decide who would win the Quidditch Cup: Gryffindor or... Ravenclaw.  
  
Slytherin had been flattened by each House the past few games, leaving them out of the running and Harry couldn't be happier. Their team captain, one Draco Malfoy, complained it was the rain that prevented them from playing properly. But as it rained on both teams and not just on wizards wearing green Quidditch robes, Professor McGonagall took ten points from Slytherin.  
  
Malfoy had nothing to say to Harry ever since Hufflepuff ran over them like a forest of man-eating plants. The score was two hundred to zero. As a result, Professor Snape looked to be straining himself much harder at forcing a smile to Harry each time he walked into Potions class.  
  
Hermione, predictably, wrote up study sheets for Harry and Ron. Normally, they would have complained but as next year they had to take their N.E.W.T.s (Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests), they reckoned they should have started sooner ("Only three months!" shrieked Hermione). They were grateful for it, especially Harry, who couldn't put the Staff or Voldemort out of his head if he tried. He would like to have given the Pensieve a try again but he was afraid he might see something he wished he didn't suddenly remember. He did try to forget... and succeeded to some extent. At least he was able to concentrate on the three ways of subduing an Albanian Antipyrine, a rather nasty plant consisting of talons on some branches, keen on sticking them into your fingers. It wasn't until Harry clipped the talons off Neville's would he go anywhere near it.  
  
The day before Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw was a Saturday and, not caring about what anyone said, Harry held the Order of Merlin plaque for as long as possible and as tight as possible. For what it was worth, he might as well have held a broken Rest-Easy charm, a strange, diamond shaped rock that Dumbledore had used on Harry once two summers ago. The charm had been used to calm Harry down, for he had been so terrified his body had become paralyzed down to every last nerve. At the time, Harry had the mark of ancients running through his blood and Voldemort was trying to use it against him. Such an act would amplify his emotions tenfold and it wasn't a pretty scene when Voldemort had Apparated right in front of Harry. Come to think of it, Harry would have liked it if someone sent him a Rest-Easy charm... He thought bitterly outloud to himself over it, before --  
  
"Harry, they're Dark alchemy," said Hermione bossily. "Dumbledore would never send you one because you first have to make a Hatred Charm. The Ministry outlawed both of them. I imagine they only let Dumbledore keep one just in case." She sounded like she swallowed an entire book on the subject.  
  
"And did you read up on it as soon as I had told you about it?" wondered Harry aloud.  
  
"Yes."  
  
Harry kept further mumblings to himself.  
  
"Good morning, Harry."  
  
"Good morning, James," said Harry, avoiding James Griffith's bespectacled, black-haired face the next morning in the Gryffindor Quidditch changing room as a quick image of his father flashed before his eyes.  
  
Harry had refused to eat a thing during breakfast, complaining that if he did, it would just return as food for Hedwig if she came into the Great Hall. His body was downstairs, but his mind drifted slowly back up to his four-poster where, an hour ago, he sat up listening to the peaceful sound of rain battering the castle walls (just as he had done the previous morning; the rain hadn't stopped since then). He could now hear hundreds of footsteps as the entirety of Hogwarts emptied the castle and crowded into the stands.  
  
"C'mon team," said Ron cajolingly, "we've been doing great so far. One last game and, if our Seeker doesn't decide to give out on us just yet," he said, pointing his head in Harry's direction, "we can win for the third year in a row!"  
  
This made Harry feel guilty, something which was probably a very good thing to happen as he had left his stomach atop Gryffindor Tower along with his mother's Phoenix Bracelet. Harry felt slightly more in tune with the Quidditch game now that there was a tiny bit of pressure on him. Everyone in Gryffindor had been voicing their opinion that they were afraid Harry would turn soft and let Cho catch the Snitch. He himself had been counting on something to keep his mind on the game. Ron reminded Harry to take the Order of Merlin necklace -- and he did -- but, not having had it for very long, they both forgot all about the bracelet.  
  
"Harry, if you want the stupid thing," said Ron sharply, "just use a Summoning Charm."  
  
Since Harry hadn't been doing very well lately without his things, he wasted no time and, within seconds, the bracelet came zooming out of the castle and into his hands. He gave Ron and his fellow team members one weak nod, twirled his Dragonback once and mounted it as soon as Madam Hooch blew her whistle. The rain was a lot harsher when you were flying around in it.  
  
Harry immediately noticed that Hagrid wasn't in the stands by Hermione as he usually was. As Harry glanced around, he wasn't anywhere at all. He didn't take much notice. Hagrid might just be running late.  
  
Twenty minutes into the game, thunder and lightning joined, drowning out any commentary Dean Thomas had been giving.  
  
Ravenclaw was up twenty points. James Griffith had missed blocking two spectacular shots from Ravenclaw's Chasers, causing the Ravenclaw section to erupt with applause.  
  
Thirty minutes into the game, Harry's Quidditch robes had become just as wet as his regular robes had been when he had slipped and fallen into the lake and still, there was no sign of the Snitch. Cho had taken to eyeing Harry and following him closely, or at least as close as one can get with a Nimbus Two Thousand versus a Dragonback. He tried to hide the fact that he didn't mind her following him as he lazily tried to shake her off. Peering down at the ground, Hagrid had finally arrived and he was talking frantically with Dumbledore. A minute later, Hagrid strode off looking somewhat distressed.  
  
An hour into the game, Gryffindor was winning one hundred to ninety. As Harry caught sight of the Snitch for the first time ever, Cho quickly made a dangerous move involving flying in front of Harry to veer him off course. It worked: Harry made a sharp left to avoid her. He noticed that Hagrid was back and now talking even more frantically to Dumbledore and this time was waving his gigantic arms about.  
  
A minute later, what Hagrid must have been talking to Dumbledore about made all eyes turn towards a humongous figure that came charging towards the Quidditch field. It was Hagrid's three headed dog, Fluffy.  
  
Panic spread like a shockwave across the Quidditch field as all manner of hexes and spells from student and teacher alike missed. He was moving with unnatural speed and nothing was going to hit him, the light just moved too slowly and no one wanted to get close enough to ensure they didn't miss.  
  
Fluffy was charging towards Hagrid and it looked like he was going to try to catch an early dinner. Fluffy was well capable of the task, drool dripping out of each his three, large jaws.  
  
Professor McGonagall, who stood on the opposite end of the field as Hagrid, attempted a Body-Bind. Fluffy jumped in the air, skillfully avoiding it. Hagrid pulled out a flute from inside his moleskin overcoat and began playing (Fluffy supposedly gets put to sleep by music). Fluffy didn't look the least bit tired. Dumbledore attempted an Avada Kedavra... Fluffy merely ducked under it.  
  
And still Hagrid stood, stupidly playing his flute that had no effect as Fluffy came closer and closer to him, one jaw wide open, the other two barking. Hagrid had sweat on his forehead and was too scared to move. Harry wanted to do something, but what?  
  
By this time, most of the students had fled back to the castle  
  
Spells missed, Fluffy reacted too fast, music wasn't putting him to sleep and no one would dare go near him. What was a sixteen year old wizard to do? Harry thought of the only thing that made sense: he would take his own stupid try subduing the rabid beast. If he threw it hard enough, would it hit? Or maybe if he flew close enough on his Dragonback...  
  
Harry clasped his hands together and slowly separated them, conjuring a huge ball of fire three feet wide. Fluffy reached Hagrid. One of the jaws snapped and Harry saw Hagrid's body jerk. Harry winced at the scream of pain.  
  
Flying towards Fluffy one handed, Harry shouted as loud as he could, "HEY, YOU UGLY GIT!"  
  
He flew over Fluffy and punched the top of one of his heads and then flew in the opposite direction. Fluffy's heads turned and then he chased. If Harry flew too far, his fireball might miss... Harry turned to face the dog and he started to fly backwards, his heart making more noise than the rolling thunder. He could see Hagrid lying on the wet grounds, clutching a bleeding leg. Harry, praying to not miss, flew five feet from Fluffy. Crossing his fingers in one hand, managing the huge ball of flame in the other, he threw it at Fluffy, as hard as he could. To miss the inferno that ensued, Harry did a barrel roll backwards. It hit!  
  
Within seconds, the disturbing sight of a three headed dog on fire filled Harry's eyes. The fire, strangely, didn't run off Fluffy and set the ground ablaze. Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall came running towards Hagrid. Harry, in a second due to the Dragonback's speed, was at Hagrid's side.  
  
"Ugh!" grunted Hagrid. "Stupid thing came out o' the forest! Didn't know what ter do! Wouldn't stop at music!"  
  
"Hagrid, calm yourself," said Dumbledore.  
  
Harry kneeled down next to Hagrid and stared at the huge, deep, madly bleeding gash that ran up and down Hagrid's massive thigh. He put a hand on it to turn it to see if there was any more damage to it. What happened next would have made him quickly release his hand from Hagrid's leg but he couldn't move it. Harry stared, his mouth hanging open.  
  
The fire dancing around the Phoenix Bracelet's band went up his arm, across his chest, around to his other arm and walked off the tips of his fingers and onto Hagrid's injury. The fire turned white and spread itself across the entire gash. Within a second, the bleeding stopped, the cut hastily started to close and a huge scab, strangely colored white, grew and then simply fell off, bursting into flames. The cut was healed and the fire from the Phoenix Bracelet crawled back onto Harry's hand, recrossed his chest, down his arm and began to dance around the silver band once again. Harry could finally pull his hand away.  
  
"Aha!" said Dumbledore brightly. "A hidden feature!"  
  
"That's - some - bracelet," said Harry weakly.  
  
"Indeed it is," said Dumbledore as Hagrid tried out his leg. He was able to stand on it and it showed no signs of being bitten. It worked perfectly. "Now, Hagrid, would you kindly explain?"  
  
"I don't know, Professor Dumbledore, sir. Fluffy came out o' the forest like I said and he wasn't lookin' himself -- fur all funny and a strange look in his eyes, all six of 'em. He ran back into the forest. That's when I first came ter tell yeh I need yeh fer summat. I went back and he came out again, barkin' an' screamin'. I came back ter yeh and..."  
  
"As spells would not work, I daresay there is Dark magic involved," said Dumbledore gravely, his bright mood quickly changing. "Harry -" he started, rounding on Harry, but --  
  
"Professor," began Harry in a timid, low voice, but he paused for a moment, staring up at the expressionless face of Dumbledore who stared his crooked nose back. They all knew all was not well, as three headed dogs don't spontaneously become immune to magic, especially from spells by extremely powerful wizards such as Albus Dumbledore.  
  
"I know I suspected Pettigrew for a long time," Harry went on, "but, well" -- and for another moment, he pondered whether he should be spilling all of this -- "Ron, Hermione and I have been..."  
  
He didn't need to finish the sentence. Dumbledore's nod assured Harry that he already knew.  
  
"And it has all been a waste of time, has it not?" Dumbledore asked. "The Staff of Cybele is legend, Harry. Thousands of years have gone by without a single person finding it."  
  
Harry almost grinned. Here stood Albus Dumbledore denying something that Harry had seen with his own eyes.  
  
"It does, Professor," said Harry at once.  
  
"He's right, sir," Hagrid assured.  
  
Dumbledore's eyes widened behind his spectacles. Harry could tell he didn't believe it.  
  
"Hermione managed to retrieve it," Harry explained, still slowly and not sure whether this was a good idea. At present, Dumbledore looked almost excited but Harry was sure he was going to hear what his punishment was when he finished. "It's in the Book of Memories. We think -- we know -- that Voldemort wants the book and will try to get the staff, too."  
  
"That I already know," said Dumbledore, his eyes shrinking. Is he mad? He knows, and...  
  
"And you're not doing anything!" Harry bursted out angrily. He couldn't stop the words from flying out of his mouth. "The book is sitting bait for anyone who finds out how to get past it's own protection. All we did was use a Mind-Blanker potion and we got to the book without any trouble!"  
  
Dumbledore said simply, "I have my reasons." Harry felt like punching him on top of the head. "If you will remember back to your first year at Hogwarts, the Philosopher's Stone was protected such that no one who wanted the stone for wrongful purposes could get it. I'm sure you figured it out, I realized you wanted to get your feet wet and I already knew that Professor Quirrel would be unable to touch your skin. I sent you your father's Invisibility Cloak so that you would be successful.  
  
"I assure you the Book of Memories is protected equally well. It took me two years to figure out how to get past the memory projection. I merely suggested Professor Snape do Mind-Blanker potions should you and your friends find yourselves in a dangerous position. As none but you three and the teachers know of the Book's natural defense, none but you three and the teachers know how to get past it. Professor?" he added, turning to Professor McGonagall.  
  
Harry got assigned detention with Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing to his great detestment for tomorrow night. He would have to see Sirius and that, he thought, was a worse punishment than getting expelled.  
  
Harry kept his mouth shut about the one thing Dumbledore didn't seem to know. Wormtail also knew how to get past the Book of Memories and whoever was plotting to kill him, would surely force the method out of him first and that scared Harry... a lot. He would have told Dumbledore, but doing so would probably have gotten him a week of detentions.  
  
Whatever was going to happen was going to happen very soon. Ron and Hermione would have to go down alone and worse yet, Dumbledore saw fit to confiscate the Invisibility Cloak and Marauder's Map. Harry, Ron and Hermione didn't know what to do without them. There was simply no place to hide the staff once they brought it back and that was assuming they weren't caught. Things never looked bleaker.  
  
Harry kept muttering to himself that night his worry over who could have possibly done that to Fluffy. Hagrid didn't seem to care that all that was left of Fluffy was a pile of black ashes. Clearly, there was someone after the book and they were quite powerful.  
  
The next morning during breakfast, Professor Dumbledore announced that, given the circumstances, Gryffindor would be awarded the Quidditch Cup because they were winning. The entire Great Hall agreed with one big "yes" when Dumbledore said that they didn't want to risk another accident on school grounds and so there would be no rematch. Harry was just glad he didn't have to worry about suddenly going soft and letting Cho catch the Golden Snitch.  
  
Ron and Hermione agreed to attempt to go down and try not to get caught while Harry served his detention in the hospital wing near the still white-faced, still dead-looking Sirius. An ache entered him as soon as he entered the room. It pained Harry a great deal to immediately be greeted by his godfather and it appeared they purposely didn't close the curtains around his bed. That was the first thing Harry did before Madam Pomfrey asked him to show her how the Phoenix Bracelet mends wounds.  
  
She watched in amazement as the fire escaped the silver band and crawled off the tips of his fingers onto a small cut she had on her fingers. The process repeated itself. First the cut started to close, a white scab grew around it and then it simply fell off, bursting into flames. The fire crawled back onto his hand and began dancing around the silver band once again.  
  
Harry couldn't concentrate much while brewing more Pepperup Potions. Instead, his mind wandered into the corner of the room where the person with almost no soul was lying. It stiffened his resolve to want to take the staff and hide it from whoever was going to attempt to steal it. Upon finishing his detention, Harry walked out as quickly as possible without breaking into a run and didn't answer himself when he asked whether it was to get away from Sirius or to see the Staff of Cybele again, knowing it would be safe in his hands... or would it?  
  
"Lemon drop," Harry told the Fat Lady. She sighed loudly at him as she swung open.  
  
"Can't keep yourself out of trouble, can you?" she said groggily.  
  
"Yeah, yeah," Harry replied bitterly.  
  
"So? How'd it go?" asked Harry, looking at Ron and Hermione sitting on armchairs by the cozy fire.  
  
"Nothing!" said Hermione furiously.  
  
"What d'you mean 'nothing'?" Harry asked her.  
  
"I mean nothing!" she squeaked. "We were almost caught by Filch but Pettigrew came to our rescue, saying we just happened to meet on the way going to the bathroom. Filch didn't want to buy it but I think Pettigrew scared him. When we got there, we just couldn't do it!"  
  
Harry turned to Ron.  
  
"We were there for a HALF - HOUR, both of us trying to retrieve the staff but it just didn't work!" said Ron furiously.  
  
Harry looked between the two of them. He felt like punching Dumbledore on top of the head again.  
  
"Great!" he shouted, flapping his arms, turning towards the spiral staircase. "Just great! It works twice then it doesn't want to work again! And you know how hard it was to stay in the hospital wing with Sirius laying in the corner?" he added, sounding (and feeling) extremely distressed.  
  
"Harry, we can go again tomorrow night," said Hermione at once.  
  
"You bet we're going again tomorrow night," said Harry sharply. 


	22. Harry's Dream

Chapter 22: HARRY'S DREAM  
  
Harry stormed up the spiral staircase, not bothering to hear what Hermione or Ron had to say to his comment. He was furius and scared. What if they couldn't retrieve the staff ever again? What if no one could retrieve the staff ever again? That wouldn't be half bad, Harry thought. As his eyes began to droop, laying in his four-poster, he had one of his dreams...  
  
Harry could see himself, from Ron's direction, lying in bed. Ron, however, was not awake. Footsteps echoed up from the spiral stairs but as they approached nearer and nearer, there was no person accompanying them. The curtain on his bed opened and the sleeve of Harry's pajamas rose up seemingly by itself. A knife appeared out of nowhere as well as a wand. The wand waved, casting some spell upon Harry.  
  
Harry watched as the knife pressed itself against his exposed arm. He would have screamed but he couldn't seem to move. A vial appeared out of thin air, the knife disappearing, and went up against the cut, blood pouring into it. After a minute, the vial, too, vanished into thin air and the cut on Harry's arm closed with the wave of a wand.  
  
The sleeve went down again, the curtains closed and Harry could hear footsteps moving towards the spiral staircase and down them. The dream quickly vanished and he didn't wake until morning.  
  
Harry immediately told Ron about it as soon as they were alone in the dormitory.  
  
"So it's tonight," said Harry, glancing scared at Ron.  
  
"Pettigrew wants to meet us during breakfast," Ron told Harry. "Said he had something to tell us about the staff. I think he found out something fairly important. Eight o'clock in the trophy room. Should be empty."  
  
Hermione obviously already knew when Harry went to tell her down in the Great Hall. They ate quickly and after eating as much as they could manage in a half hour's time, Harry, Ron and Hermione walked innocently out of the Great Hall and headed for the trophy room. Filch wanted dearly to know why they were walking out so early but a crash nearby (most likely Peeves) sent Filch into a rage, screaming something about impossible poltergeists. Harry, Ron and Hermione snuck all the way to the trophy room to find it... empty.  
  
"Where's Pettigrew?" said Ron, looking all around. "Said he would be here before us."  
  
Harry and Hermione looked all around, too. Pettigrew was nowhere to be seen.  
  
"Maybe he just forgot?" suggested Hermione.  
  
"Doubtful," said Ron. "He - really - wanted to tell us something, remember?" Hermione agreed.  
  
"Then where is he?" said Harry.  
  
"Oh, forget it," said Hermione dismissively. "If he wants to talk to us, he'll find us in the corridors. He has Harry's schedule memorized." Harry rolled his eyes in agreement.  
  
But for the entire day, no one had seen Wormtail.  
  
He did not follow Harry to Defense Against the Dark Arts, where Professor Delacour was finishing up the book Harry Potter: Lucky or Legendary. At this point, Harry grin and bared it. Today's subject was all about how the ability to speak Parseltongue leaked through Voldemort to Harry. Professor Delacour brought in a rather large python and allowed him to demonstrate.  
  
Neville squirmed in the back of the room as Harry told the python to stand itself on it's tail and perform acrobatics in the air, all the while a hiss escaping his mouth instead of English. It surely freaked out the entire class, including Professor Delacour. Parselmouths are supposed to be Dark wizards but Harry had never shown the slightest inclination of joining Voldemort. He would never. Not even if you threatened to kill him.  
  
"Well," said Professor Delacour as the bell rang, "I think zat wraps up today's lesson."  
  
Grinning, Harry ordered the snake to go back into it's cage... and told it to close the door with it's tail.  
  
Likewise, Wormtail did not catch up with Harry on his way to Care of Magical Creatures where Hagrid was showing the class Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes. Harry immediately recognized the golden beak and scarlet feathers. Fawkes spread his wings and set flight from Hagrid's arm immediately upon spotting Harry and landed on his shoulder, chirping peacefully. Instantly, Fawkes' warm feathers released some of Harry's built-up stress.  
  
"Ah!" said Hagrid proudly. "Likes you, doesn't he?"  
  
"Heh."  
  
"Phoenixes are beau'iful creatures," Hagrid told the class when they finally assembled around his hut, all staring at Harry with Fawkes on his shoulder. "Slytherins might want ter back away. If Fawkes decides to sing, yeh're goin' ter find yehself scared for yeh life. Phoenixes are magically powerful. Their song makes the pure o' heart feel braver an' strikes fear inter the impure o' heart."  
  
Harry could remember well the time Fawkes had sung into his ear four years ago, giving him the courage to get off his feet and drive the blade of Gryffindor into the gruesome basilisk. Perhaps Fawkes sensed Harry's current fears because he began to sing his phoenix song. The Slytherins immediately backed away. All the Gryffindors stood taller.  
  
"I told yeh!" taunted Hagrid.  
  
Hagrid contined the lesson with the Slytherins several feet behind the Gryffindors. Harry had to come up front next to Hagrid. Fawkes seemed quite attached to him and only left when Dumbledore came out just as the bell rang. Hedwig would have been jealous.  
  
Harry began to worry when Wormtail did not turn up for lunch nor for Harry's afternoon lessons. No one had spotted him at all that day when Harry asked around during dinner.  
  
It wasn't until the next day that Wormtail showed up at all. He was up at the staff table during breakfast when Harry arrived. And he didn't seem to notice that he had been missing for an entire day when Harry, Ron and Hermione caught up with him when breakfast ended in the entrance hall.  
  
"N-no," he said, "I was here yesterday!"  
  
Harry stood still as Wormtail walked off with Dumbledore.  
  
"Very strange," said Harry. "Almost like a... like a..." he stammered.  
  
"Like a what?" asked Ron.  
  
Harry lowered his voice and said, "Like a Memory Charm..."  
  
Ron and Hermione opened their mouths in horror. It only meant one thing: that Wormtail had been kidnapped and forced to tell how to get to the Book of Memories.  
  
"Wormtail's gonna be killed tonight," said Harry firmly. "Which means we have to get the staff out of there tonight because tomorrow... they're going after the book!"  
  
"Isn't there anything we can do to stop Wormtail from dying?" asked Hermione desperiately. "I mean..."  
  
"I'd love to but they're likely to kill us too!" hissed Ron.  
  
And as soon as Wormtail exited the Great Hall after dinner, it happened.  
  
"PETTIGREW'S DEAD!" shouted a fifth year Hufflepuff.  
  
The Great Hall exploded with a roar of frightened screams. At least fifty exploding firecrackers from the tip of Dumbledore's wand was what it took to silence everyone.  
  
"Please save your panicking for later!" Dumbledore shouted to everyone. "Prefects, you will lead your houses to their dormitories. Head Boy, Head Girl and teachers will come with me."  
  
Hermione had been appointed Head Girl over the summer.  
  
"See you later, Hermione," Ron whispered to her. "Don't worry about us."  
  
"I'm not worried about you," Hermione told Ron, "I'm worried about Harry."  
  
Harry was worried about Harry, too.  
  
Hermione strode off with the Head Boy, a Ravenclaw sixth year while Harry and Ron walked silently back to their dormitory with the Gryffindor Prefect who just happened to be James Griffith. When they all arrived in the commons, Professor McGonagall had come to tell everyone tomorrow's classes have all been canceled and that they were to not leave Gryffindor Tower for any reason. Harry and Ron, of course, were going to leave anyway.  
  
It took forever for the common room to clear, for everyone who felt like Voldemort was going to burst in any moment and kill Harry to feel calm enough to go to bed.  
  
"Come on," Harry whispered to Ron when Dennis Creevey had finally stopped asking Harry what he was going to do and went off to bed with the other third years.  
  
Ron nodded. Before leaving, they checked to make sure that the Fat Lady was asleep in her picture frame. Her snores had become increasingly loud and when they heard her snort, they pushed the portrait open and climbed out the hole. Harry and Ron nearly jumped out of their skin when a girl with bushy, brown hair came charging down the corridor. Luckily, it was just Hermione.  
  
"I can't go with you but I can tell you hints," said Hermione. "The biggest problem is that Mrs. Norris is prowling the third floor corridor."  
  
"JUST - OUR - BAD - LUCK!" Harry hissed loudly.  
  
"Shh! Keep your voice down! Professor McGonagall is just at the end of this corridor! I'll tell her I need her to see something and you can sneak past her. There's no one else on the way but you need to do something about Mrs. Norris."  
  
"How about we just kick the stupid cat and leave as soon as possible?" suggested Ron. "The stupid cat will scream and someone will think something's happened."  
  
"Yes, exactly," snapped Hermione. "And half the teachers will be down the corridor in an instant. Great idea," she added, shaking her head.  
  
"Ron, you check to make sure the coast is clear when we get there," said Harry, "and I'll think of something to do about the stupid cat." He had no idea what he was going to do but he made it sound like he had a plan.  
  
"Okay, you deal with the stupid cat," said Ron.  
  
"The stupid cat -- oh now you're making me say 'stupid cat' too! -- is just behind the door. Don't - be - seen!" Hermione urged. She paused for a minute and the three of them had time to ponder over how much trouble they were going to be in if they got caught. "Okay, I'll go distract Professor McGonagall," Hermione said finally and she walked back down the corridor. After a minute, she came back into view and waved them over.  
  
Harry and Ron, the faithful Dragonback in hand with their wands and the Warmth Cloak (for which purpose they didn't know, it just seemed like a good idea to take it), followed Hermione down the corridor and all the way towards the third floor corridor. Hermione bid them good luck and Harry told Ron to just look out for teachers. Harry opened the door. Mrs. Norris, the stupid cat, was sitting on her hind legs, looking hungrily up at him. He wanted the stupid cat to move and what happened next, he couldn't explain.  
  
Harry's body tingled all over and he felt very weak. A second later, his body collapsed under it's own weight and he fell unconscious. Upon waking up, all wasn't right. He could see himself. He had four legs and a tail and he was no taller than a foot. He walked down some stairs and then his body tingled all over again. Harry felt very weak and fell unconscious, to wake up once more, this time perfectly normal.  
  
Mrs. Norris was gone. Harry had no idea how he did it.  
  
He looked for Ron and pulled him over.  
  
"Wow," said Ron, amazed, "how?"  
  
"I don't know," said Harry, who was quite amazed himself. "She just walked away. I'll explain later."  
  
He was simply going to tell Ron that he was staring at Mrs. Norris and she walked away, failing to mention how he had collapsed...  
  
The third floor corridor was clear as they made their way into Fluffy's room. They locked the door behind themselves and waited for Mr. Filch to come by, who, thankfully, didn't. Whatever Harry did, he made the stupid cat forget about having had seen him, too.  
  
Harry, extremely anxious and shaking all over, opened the trap door.  
  
"All right," he said, looking down, "this is it. Once we get out with the staff, no one is to know we have it except us. We don't have any Mind-Blanker Potion so just keep your head clear."  
  
Ron, who was also extremely anxious and shaking all over, nodded.  
  
"Here goes nothing..."  
  
They hung from the edge of the trap door, holding a hand on the Dragonback and let go. Harry and Ron landed with a soft thud on the cold, dark, dungeon floor.  
  
"Lumos!" they both said. Harry conjured a rather large fireball after giving the Dragonback to Ron. If they saw something down there, they didn't want to see it for very long.  
  
Through the Devil's Snare room, through the chamber of the flying keys, passed the giant chess set, into and out of the room with seven potions and into the last chamber they went. The Book of Memories was sitting atop the pedastal which was good, as it meant they weren't going to see anything... just yet.  
  
"You do it," Harry insisted. For one, Harry couldn't stand another episode of touching the book and second, he had to summon the last of his courage as his hand clutching the Order of Merlin plaque so tightly that his fingers hurt didn't seem to be doing a thing.  
  
How long were they going to be there trying to retrieve the staff? What if someone already found them missing and Dumbledore was coming down? What if the book suddenly disappeared and something dangerous appeared in it's wake...  
  
Ron, shaking head to toe, pushed up his sleeves of his cloak and placed his hands in the correct spots.  
  
"W-what were the words again?" he asked, turning his head to Harry.  
  
Harry racked his brains. He couldn't forget the words, not now! Not when they had come so far. But Hermione was the one who had memorized it...  
  
"Relatum?" he said quietly.  
  
Ron turned his head back towards the book.  
  
"Relatum... Relatum id..." he said.  
  
"Id res. Convulsum id," said Harry.  
  
"...hactenus non temere?" Ron asked.  
  
But the book immediately answered his question by shocking both Ron's hands, causing him to spin and sending him crashing into the far wall behind him with a crunch. The golden glitter flew with his hands, disappearing into the air as he crashed into the wall. Bits of stone rolled across the floor.  
  
"RON!" screamed Harry, running over. "Are you okay?"  
  
Harry turned Ron's head to face him and saw that his nose looked broken and there was a steady stream of blood pouring out of it. Remembering the Phoenix Bracelet on his wrist, Harry put his hand on Ron's nose. Amazed, Harry watched as the fire jumped from the silver band and crawled off the end of his fingers and onto Ron's injured nose. When it was healed, he pulled out his wand and shouted, "Ennervate!" at Ron, waking him up.  
  
"Maybe you ought to try," said Ron, feeling his nose.  
  
"No way," said Harry at once, standing up quickly and putting his wand back inside his robes. "It starts out 'Relatum id res. Convulsum id but I don't... REMEMBER THE REST!" he added, furious.  
  
"Calm down. It won't do either of us any good if you lose your head," said Ron, getting up.  
  
Harry didn't agree. Losing his head would make him dead and that would put an end to a lot of his troubles. He didn't dare voice that to Ron and soon after, he wanted to forget he had even thought of it.  
  
"Convulsum id adseutus nihil?" said Ron.  
  
"I think so," said Harry.  
  
"And you finish the incantation with 'Eloco nihil non hactenus non temere,'" echoed a voice from the potions room.  
  
Harry and Ron froze. They didn't recognize the voice but when the owner entered the room, Harry felt relieved.  
  
"Thantanos!" he said brightly.  
  
Ron put his hands back on the book, the golden glitter appearing, and tried again.  
  
"Relatum id res. Convulsum id adsuetus nihil. Eloco nihil non hactenus non temere."  
  
Gray smoke escaped the Book of Memories and darted over to Ron's outstretched hand. It only took one try? The Staff of Cybele dropped to the floor. Ron pulled his hand away and the glitter disappeared.  
  
"I should have known," said Thantanos, walking slowly towards the staff.  
  
"Known what?" asked Harry. "What are you doing down here?"  
  
Thantanos merely sighed, repeating "I should have known... Should have known..." to himself.  
  
Ron picked up the staff and said, "Someone's trying to steal this thing. Good thing you came to help!"  
  
"Yeah," said Harry. "Going to hide it up in our dormitory. They'll never know we took it!"  
  
"I should have known," said Thantanos again but his tone was different. It was...  
  
"For crying out loud," Harry snapped, "should have known what?"  
  
"I should have known that it would have taken an ancient to revive the staff," said Thantanos, stopping and standing up to his full height. His eyes changed. "I know someone's trying to steal it and I know who it is."  
  
"Who!" said Harry and Ron in unison.  
  
"Me."  
  
"You?" said Harry blankly. This was a joke. It had to be. "You?" Harry repeated. "W-why would you want it?"  
  
Harry now recognized that look in Thantanos' eyes. He didn't like it.  
  
"What's that matter to you?" said Thantanos brightly. "I knew if I let you at it, you'd revive the staff for me. Didn't Barty Crouch's son tell you how easy it was to manipulate nice people?"  
  
"No!" said Harry loudly and disbelievingly. "Why would you be after the Staff? You were under a permanent Imperius! Dumbledore removed the mark of ancients from you!" he shouted desperately. A sick joke, had to be...  
  
"Ah," said Thantanos, starting to pace. "I don't think I ever told you it was I who dragged Michelle into this originally. She didn't come willingly... and that reminds me! After I take that book and staff and Disapparate, I need to go kill her for trying to make me not believe. My father's dead, dear Harry, and you killed him."  
  
"I DIDN'T -- KILL HIM!" Harry bellowed, clenching his fists. Thantanos was back under a permanent Imperius.  
  
"Don't lie to me," said Thantanos. He snapped his fingers. Ropes appeared out of thin air all around Ron and bound themselves tightly to him, causing him to drop the staff. Thantanos pulled Ron towards him with a wave of his hand.  
  
"Let him go!" Harry heard himself shout more bravely than he felt.  
  
He quickly forgot that he was going to be in serious trouble as soon as he got out of this and all he wanted was to see Voldemort dead. It was obvious to anyone that Thantanos was under the influence of a mix of Memory Charms and the Imperius Curse. Harry quickly forgot that he was just sixteen and skinny and Thantanos was at least thirty, fit and a well-trained wizard.  
  
Thantanos simply laughed.  
  
"Pick up the staff," said a soft voice in the back of Harry's head that he didn't recognize, "pick up the staff..."  
  
Great, now he's hearing voices? What if it was an attempted Imperius by Thantanos? Harry was good at fighting them off, but... Instead, Harry pulled out his short, eleven inch, holly and phoenix feather wand.  
  
"What are you going to do with that thing?" laughed Thantanos which made Harry even angrier. "A poorly made staff can outpower any wand, even Lord Voldemort's! But the Staff of Cybele, oh we still don't know what powers it holds. Come on, Harry!" Thantanos added with a drawl. "What's the point! Join the Dark Lord. You're just going to die otherwise!"  
  
"I - will - never," said Harry fiercely, gripping his wand, his last hope -- but it was a feeble and pointless hope.  
  
"Pick up the staff," said the soft voice in the back of Harry's head again, "pick up the staff..."  
  
He still didn't trust it, he didn't know what it was so he had no reason to... right?  
  
"How touching!" said Thantanos coldly. "I always value bravery... Yes, Harry, your parents were brave... Lord Voldemort killed your father first; and he put up a courageous fight... but your mother needn't have died... she was trying to protect you..." And then, Thantanos squealed with delight. "Ooh and if I remember correctly, Lord Voldemort said that to you five years ago, wasn't it? I'm so good..."  
  
"If your stupid Lord is so powerful," said Harry, stalling, trying to think, desperate, fists still clenched, "why aren't I dead yet?"  
  
"We were so sure we had you figured out, Harry," said Thantanos lazily. "Young kid, parents die, mother's sacrifice becomes a countercharm... I'm not going to make that same mistake again now, am I? That stupid dog was supposed to kill you though, not Hagrid."  
  
"Pick up the staff, Harry," said the soft voice frantically. "Pick it up!" it shouted, insanely frantic.  
  
"But you needn't worry about what's going to happen now. I'll be taking that book, the staff and Lord Voldemort will be walking again tonight!" he shouted joyously. "Now stop wasting my time and get out of my way. I don't like to keep him waiting."  
  
Thantanos started towards the book but Harry walked straight in his path, stopping him.  
  
"Foolish boy," taunted Thantanos, "what can you accomplish?"  
  
"Voldemort's tried to kill me for five years now and what has it gotten him? He looks terrible, he's a mess!" Harry shouted. He didn't know what he was going to accomplish but he was going to do something. He wasn't going to just let Thantanos walk out as planned. "I'm not totally useless," said Harry... did he really believe it to be true? He had to, he had done very useful stuff in the past...  
  
Harry snapped out of it at the sound of the soft voice again.  
  
"Pick it up," it snapped, "and see what happens!"  
  
What was important was that Thantanos was still staring at the book. "What did you do to Fluffy?" said Harry hastily.  
  
"Ah, Fluffy, is it?" said Thantanos, sounding very pleased with himself. "Experiments... some charms with the mark of ancients... and he was running faster than a Speed Demon! Seems it also made his reflexes faster. Pity that bracelet you wear was able to heal the gamekeeper. You might also be wondering how the Fire Quidditch committee actually accepted a team such as the one we had this summer? Oh, the power of this mark... Now get out of my way," drawled Thantanos, throwing Harry aside, knocking him to the floor.  
  
Harry caught himself with his hands just before his face hit the floor, feeling the stone floor cut them. He looked at his hand, which was showing a little bit of red then turned his head, still lying on the floor, disgusted, to Thantanos.  
  
Thantanos walked straight up to the Book of Memories and stared at it. Think, Harry thought furiously, think! Staring at the back of Thantanos, he saw something that caught his eye.  
  
The tattoo Hermione had pointed out on the back of his neck, Harry was looking at it... It was the Slytherin serpent. She said it was changing? It didn't look to be changing at all. What had she seen?  
  
Throwing the confusing thought away, Harry then did the only thing he could think to do. From the floor, he pointed his wand at Thantanos' back and muttered under his breath, "Crucio."  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
Dare he shout it? If Thantanos heard what he was trying to do...  
  
"Try it with the staff," ordered the soft voice in Harry's head. "That wand you carry is pathetic!"  
  
"No!" Harry said to it. Thantanos didn't seem to have heard. "CRUCIO!" Harry bellowed, pointing his wand at Thantanos.  
  
A jet of light shot out the end of his wand and hit Thantanos at the top of his head. It didn't do anything. Harry quickly got up in preparation for anything.  
  
Thantanos pulled out his wand. Harry stood frozen.  
  
"Pick me up!" hissed the voice, sounding very angry. "NOW!"  
  
Thantanos shouted, "Crucio!" pointing his wand at Harry.  
  
It hit and to Harry's great displeasure, it did something. He felt like he was thrown into a pit of burning, flesh meltingly hot lava with needles piercing his skin. There was no pain from his scar, and thankfully so... Every inch of his skin screamed and his own screams echoed around the corridors. Surely someone above them he could hear... someone would come... surely he was screaming in pain loud enough...  
  
"Trying to curse me behind my back, are you?" Thantanos taunted, laughing, enjoying Harry's screams. He didn't look to be stopping the spell any time soon.  
  
"BREAK FROM IT!" thundered the voice in Harry's head.  
  
Harry didn't think he could do much of anything except continue to roll all over the floor in terrible convulsions. He caught a glance of Ron. Ron had his eyes closed, fearing the same fate for himself.  
  
Almost feeling Harry's pain for himself, Ron screamed, "Stop it!"  
  
Thantanos merely laughed. Harry wanted it to end... to go out... to just die... and surely his body was coming apart at the seams... This was worse, this was stronger than worse, worse than any Cruciatus he had ever felt and the blood leaking down his mouth was a gruesome reassurance.  
  
And the voice in the back of his head barked again, "BREAK - FROM - IT!"  
  
Thantanos raised his wand and continued to laugh softly at Harry, who was still recovering, still shaking violently, now spread eagle, face down, on the damp, blood-flecked ground.  
  
"I rather like that one," said Thantanos coldly. "Don't you?"  
  
Harry pushed himself up with his hands, spit the remaining blood out of his mouth and pushed his hair out of his eyes, which had collected a few drops of blood.  
  
"PICK - UP - THE - STAFF!" the voice roared so loud that Harry thought it might deafen him although it couldn't, as it was only in his head.  
  
He decided to listen to it because nothing else seemed to be working. As Thantanos was still looking at the Book of Memories, he crawled his way, inching, towards the Staff of Cybele, still shaking.  
  
Harry wiped his mouth with his sleeve, wiped the tears that leaked from his eyes and wrapped a hand around the staff. Instantly, he was far more scared of what was happening to the staff than what Thantanos was doing. A loud whirring sound filled the air, deadened by a rush of wind and Harry didn't notice that Thantanos was staring.  
  
The Staff of Cybele, just a second ago, four feet long, having the head, body and tail of a badger was now changing shape. Misty, gray smoke surrounded it and it was becoming longer. Seven feet long, in fact, and the animal on it was changing as well. Harry's grip was forced to widen as underneath his fingers the badger's body was replaced by one of a lion. The tail became that of a lion's and the badger's head became that of a lion's. The crystal, which glowed, at the tip of the mouth became scarlet and the scratches disappeared, leaving the crystal's surface perfectly smooth. The lion's body and head was golden. The tail, which to Harry's horror was wagging as if it were happy to be held by him, scarlet. All of it was warm to the touch as if it were alive. Harry could even feel fur on the body of the lion. The sound stopped and the smoke thinned only to disappear.  
  
"My Lord, the writings don't lie!" breathed Thantanos. Harry stared at the fur-covered tail which was wagging like a real lion's tail. "Excellent! Now give it here, boy."  
  
"Come and get it," growled Harry through gritted teeth, getting to his feet.  
  
He forgot that just a minute ago he had been crying at Thantanos' feet and that at any second he could be put under another torturous curse. Was it really forgetfulness... or was it bravery?  
  
"Who are you kidding!" said Thantanos, laughing. "You don't even know how to use it. Staves are dangerous, Harry, you know that... I was hoping several people would die when I had bewitched the crazy gamekeeper's dog but, ah well... Looks like more practice on using the staff for me..."  
  
"It may be dangerous," said Harry hotly, "but I've been doing some pretty amazing things lately."  
  
And truth be told, he had.  
  
Whether he could handle the staff or not, he had to try. He made a choice between what was easy and what was right. This was right. It was also not going to be easy.  
  
Harry twirled the seven foot long Staff of Cybele in his hand and brandished it threateningly at Thantanos. Thantanos smiled... and then to Harry's greater horror, Thantanos' skin glowed a perfect, blinding white. He couldn't believe his eyes. The mark of ancients was back in Thantanos.  
  
"Yes," smiled Thantanos at the look of horror on Harry's face, "Lord Voldemort knows what he is doing, my friend, Lord Voldemort knows what he is doing... Oh but don't fret, there was only enough stored away for me.  
  
"So you see, just give up. You're only going to go out tired!"  
  
He threw his wand on the floor, clasped his hands and bowed his head, beginning to chant. Harry felt his stomach dissolve. He couldn't move. He clutched the Staff of Cybele, which he held in front of himself like a sort of shield, and the Order of Merlin plaque as tight as he could for comfort. Harry moved to stand in front of Ron. If anything, Ron would get out alive... Neither of the things in his hands was making Harry feel any less frightened. His eyes didn't move from the sight of Thantanos' moving lips. He recognized the spell immediately.  
  
"Parcere meus vita, parcere meus anima. Accio potentia caeles intus veneficus adfirmo. Adiumentum meus via. Parcere meus vita, parcere meus anima. Addere ultimus clades ad parcere nullus altera," Thantanos chanted. He smiled.  
  
The last things Harry could remember as the blue haze from Clades Ultimus came in contact with him was Thantanos taking the Book of Memories and Disapparating. There was also a sudden flash of bright, white light, a spray of blood, Harry's own screaming and enough pain to make him think his body had exploded into a thousand pieces... His hand was still firmly attached to the Staff of Cybele... even if it wasn't attached to his body. 


	23. Horrible Prospects

Chapter 23: HORRIBLE PROSPECTS  
  
Consciousness creeped back into him. He didn't think it would; he truly thought he had died and the only thing that kept him from telling himself "you're used to it, get over it," was the indescribably ugly prospect of it ever really happening.  
  
Stiff and aching all over, Harry opened his eyes. He was lying in the dark, empty hospital wing. He turned his head, his neck so stiff it almost didn't want to move. On his left was, unfortunately, Sirius but on his right was Ron. How had they survived? And worse yet, Harry didn't forget how he ended up in this position... Thantanos got away with the Book of Memories but at least not the Staff of Cybele...  
  
"Ron!" Harry hissed croakily through the darkness. It hurt to speak and it hurt even more when he tried to move his torso... so he stopped. Ron didn't move.  
  
"RON!" Harry croaked again. Ron's covers gave a jolt.  
  
"Harry?" Ron croaked back.  
  
Despite all the horrors, Harry couldn't force down a smile. It at least looked as if Thantanos didn't get the staff. It wasn't all bad...  
  
"We did it," Harry grinned, his voice a little more like normal.  
  
Ron grinned back.  
  
"But now what," Harry added, slightly sulky.  
  
That was a good question.  
  
What was going to happen to them? Were they going to be punished? Expelled? Thrown out and made to live as Muggles... Harry didn't want to think about that.  
  
"So what d'you think that was all about?" asked Harry.  
  
"All what was all about?"  
  
"The book, the staff, Thantanos, Michelle, Fluffy..."  
  
"Fluffy I can guess. Thantanos probably wanted Fluffy to kill as many of us as possible so he could get out easy. The rest, you're on your own..."  
  
They were both silent for a few minutes... and then...  
  
"Thantanos was under another permanent Imperius," Harry said through the darkness.  
  
"Was he?"  
  
"Had to have been. Voldemort probably has my blood stored away somewhere or something just in case..."  
  
"Or someone else alive is an ancient, too --"  
  
"Don't say that," said Harry sharply. "I'll be kicking myself from here to Azkaban if that's true."  
  
Ron silently agreed.  
  
They both layed in silence for several more minutes.  
  
"Why d'you think Pettigrew ran?" Harry wondered aloud.  
  
"Probably scared out of his wits --"  
  
"Like I was? --"  
  
"-- at something Voldemort was pla --" but Ron couldn't finish his sentence because Harry had started clapping softly.  
  
"You did it!" he croaked cheerily. "You said the name!"  
  
Ron was amazed at himself but he coughed loudly (which hurt) and continued.  
  
"...at something Voldemort was planning..."  
  
"But what?" Harry asked, more to himself than to Ron.  
  
"Who knows, who cares. He doesn't have the staff," said Ron dismissively. Ron paused. Where was the staff now, anyway?  
  
"I wonder why he wouldn't ever look at me," said Harry, his mind wandering.  
  
"Hey," said Ron, looking for an answer, and suddenly, as if he knew it all along, it came to him. "Remember when Dumbledore said there would be a day when you'd be glad you saved Pettigrew's life? Well, this is it, isn't it?"  
  
"Yeah," said Harry, "I guess... It didn't help much..."  
  
"It didn't help at all... I just hope we don't get kicked out," said Ron, staring at some space just beyond the foot of Harry's bed. "My mom'll finish where Thantanos left off."  
  
Harry and Ron sat silent for a few moments.  
  
"Harry!" shouted Ron suddenly.  
  
"What," said Harry dully, as if nothing could be of any importance.  
  
"Look! The foot of your bed!"  
  
Harry tried to sit up but it hurt too much so he settled for straining his neck and eyes (which didn't hurt much less). He would have screamed but his voice wouldn't let him. Sitting on a table at the end of the bed was a bunch of get-well cards (as many as Ron had) and --  
  
"The staff!" Harry croaked. "I don't believe it. Dumledore's not -- he's -- letting us," he stammered.  
  
"He's not letting you keep it if that's what you're thinking," said Ron. "Don't forget why we wanted the staff in the first place," he added, pointing his head in Sirius' direction.  
  
Harry didn't want to look but Ron was right, that's why they wanted it in the first place. Would Dumbledore revive him?  
  
"Dumbledore still better revive him," said Harry. "Even if they kick us out afterwards."  
  
"And if they don't revive him?" said Ron.  
  
Harry grunted moodily.  
  
"I don't know and I don't really care," he said flatly. "My head hurts. I'm tired. I really don't want to know what happened down there yet and the longer it is before I have to hear Professor Dumbledore, the better."  
  
"Can't say I don't agree with you there. It was strange though, Thantanos being down there and all."  
  
"You know what was more strange?" Harry asked mysteriously. "The staff was talking to me."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You heard. It told me to pick it up. And when Thantanos had me under -- under that curse, it told me to break from it."  
  
Remembering the picture of Harry writhing madly on the ground, blood leaking out of his mouth, screaming at the top of his lungs, Ron was instantly horrified again.  
  
"Harry, that was just --"  
  
"No, Ron. I don't need reminding. Let's just go back to sleep," said Harry, staring up at the black ceiling above him. "Dumbledore's probably going to revive Sirius and then throw us out. Might as well enjoy our last night."  
  
"Right," Ron agreed darkly.  
  
"Well, good night then," said Harry.  
  
"Good night."  
  
It sure wasn't much to hang on nor was it a good note to try to go to sleep on. Harry managed to painfully turn his body onto his stomach. Out of the corner of his eye, something was glinting in the moonlight at him. He opened both eyes and strained to get a better look. To his somewhat relief, something golden, something silver and another something golden was sitting on the table next to him. Harry seized the Order of Merlin plaque at once and held it in his hand.  
  
He felt very guilty for doing so after having braved danger and thwarted death for yet another time. Harry probably would have argued with himself if a part of him didn't say "shut up and go to sleep. You can worry about it in the morning."  
  
Holding the plaque was as effective as it had once ever been. 


	24. Dumbledore's Other Mistake

Chapter 24: DUMBLEDORE'S OTHER MISTAKE  
  
In the morning, Harry was awoken by someone prodding him.  
  
"Wake up, you idiot," the person said. She was crying but she was extremely happy.  
  
"Just let me pack my bags," said Harry stupidly.  
  
The person shook him.  
  
"What!" Harry demanded, painfully turning over and rubbing his eyes. He felt around for his glasses and put them on. The person standing over him came into better focus.  
  
There were, in fact, two people. One of them was Hermione and the other was Cho. Both of them had tears in their eyes. Harry felt himself go red and he hid his face under the covers. He would have stayed that way but Cho tore the covers out of his unusually weak grip.  
  
"Been out for two days you know," said Cho, sniffing. "Madam Pomfrey said she heard you talking to Ron last night. Pretty amazing thing you two did that night."  
  
Harry felt angry with himself but there wasn't anything he could do.  
  
"We got the staff but he got the book..." he said.  
  
"Who was it, anyway?" asked Hermione, sniffing.  
  
"Remember Thantanos Brev?" said Harry, gripping Hermione and Cho's attention. "Well... he's back!" he added, dripping with sarcastic happiness.  
  
"What do you mean 'he's back?'" asked Hermione.  
  
"Voldemort's got him under another permanent Imperius and... that means he has the mark of ancients again..."  
  
Hermione and Cho opened their mouths in horror.  
  
"I don't believe it either," said Harry, who was now fully awake. He sat up, ignoring the stabbing pains running up and down his body. It's not every day you think you were exploded into a thousand pieces to find yourself alive and well, just hurting. "I just know Voldemort's going to get revived again... and then... but Thantanos said they only had enough of my blood to give the mark to him..."  
  
Harry, Cho and Hermione exchanged horrified looks. They didn't want to think about what Voldemort would be planning to do with Thantanos...  
  
"He's going to come back even stronger," said Harry forebodingly, "if that's possible... and we don't know what else is in that book."  
  
"How were you able to get the staff out?" asked Hermione.  
  
Harry didn't know whether to feel happy or not. Although, he was the last living ancient...  
  
"Thantanos said an ancient has to be around," he said. "It didn't work that time you and Ron went alone because I wasn't there."  
  
There was a pause while the fact sank into Harry. What else was there to being a descendent of the ancients?  
  
"Hey," said Hermione suddenly, "didn't they live five thousand years ago? And when did the Staff of Cybele disappear?" It sounded like she just thought of something.  
  
"No one really knows," said Cho with a sense of wonderment. "We just know it was several thousand years ago since it was supposedly last seen... Why?" she added, turning to Hermione.  
  
"Well, I mean, when we first retrieved the staff, it was short and it was a badger, not the -- the --" Hermione stammered.  
  
"The Gryffinor lion!" Harry shouted, catching on. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"  
  
"What is it?" said Cho gripped with suspense.  
  
"Ron!" Harry shouted, painfully turning, the better to yell at him. "Wake up!"  
  
Ron coughed and said, "What," groggily.  
  
"What would you say if I told you that the ancients were the ones who made up the animals for each of Hogwarts' houses?" said Harry. "And Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin used the rumored animals on the staff?"  
  
"I'd say you need to get some more sleep, Harry," Ron replied, flipping himself over like a hamburger.  
  
"He's right!" shrieked Hermione. "The staff was definitely created before Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin's time! Harry, what happened? How did it change?"  
  
"I -- I don't know," Harry said, "I just grabbed it smoke came out of nowhere and started to change it."  
  
"D'you think it changes into the animal of what house they would be sorted into? The last ancient who touched it was probably a descendent of Hufflepuff!" said Hermione, amazed at her genius. "I wonder why they would want to hide it, though? I imagine another ancient down the line would have tried to get it, at least a Gryffindor --"  
  
"Speaking of things we don't know," said Harry, cutting in, "I'd like to know how Ron and I survived."  
  
"We have absolutely no idea," said Hermione, flapping her arms. "Dumbledore talked to the school. Everyone was pretty shook up when they found out the Book of Memories was stolen (even though they have no idea what it does) but were all happy when Dumbledore said the Staff actually exists. He didn't help things by saying Voldemort's" -- and Cho flinched -- "probably going to rise again."  
  
"How did Dumbledore say how he found us? What did we -- er -- look like?" Ron asked Hermione.  
  
"The place was damaged beyond belief! The last chamber is just underneath the dungeons and it left a big hole in the floor just outside the Slytherin common room. You can see the last chamber but can't get in or out unless you feel like falling down several hundred feet. The teachers had to use Summoning Charms to get them out. It's a miracle you two lived and weren't blasted to pieces. No way is a spell going to fix that hole; whatever happened down there turned the stone to dust. They'll have to repair it by elbow grease."  
  
Harry's and Ron's eyes widened in shock.  
  
"You could say that!" said Hermione nodding suggestively. "The entire castle shook. I was sure both of you died. Dumbledore came immediately over to me and asked, 'He went, didn't he?' I went to get Cho first and -- and when we -- when we saw the hole and you two just -- just laying there all -- all covered in -- in..." she tried to say, but she couldn't finish it. It was evident from the tears leaking from Hermione's and Cho's eyes what they did and what they were covered in (blood).  
  
"He -- er -- used Clades Ultimus," said Harry, not sure whether he should have said it.  
  
Now it was time for Hermione's and Cho's eyes to widen in shock.  
  
"And you lived?" Cho asked through many, many tears. "Maybe -- you did -- because..."  
  
"I think it was the staff," said Harry hastily, pointing to it. "I held it in front of me and it must have done something. If you think whatever makes the Killing Curse bounce off me is the same thing that stopped Clades Ultimus, you're crazy," he said sharply. "Why didn't Ron die? And besides, the mark of ancients makes everything more powerful. You're not supposed to be able to Apparate or Disapparate inside Hogwarts but with it, you can. Only that staff could have done it."  
  
"That wasn't all," said Ron, cutting in. "Go on, Harry."  
  
He immediately knew that Ron was referring to the Cruciatus Curse and he didn't feel much like mentioning it, especially when he looked at Cho's eyes.  
  
"God, Harry, I couldn't even look," said Ron darkly, it coming back to him again.  
  
Cho and Hermione were looking frantically between Harry and Ron.  
  
Harry closed his eyes and said, "He... casted Cruciatus --"  
  
"Oh, Harry," said Hermione, disgusted. "I remember what you managed to do to Thantanos. That must have been worse than terrible."  
  
"He was... coughing up blood," said Ron darkly. Harry didn't like him telling about it but it made him feel better all the same. "Twitching... screaming so loud my ears hurt. And you two thought that scar could cause a lot of pain..."  
  
Cho didn't need to hear anymore and proceeded to wrap her arms around Harry, crying joyfully at how crazy her hero was. Harry got a cramp in his stomach and he couldn't tell if it was from the stabbing pains or the swelling happiness. He wanted her to let go because it was embarassing but he didn't want her to let go because he liked it. Harry put his arms around her and felt a rush of... joy.  
  
"We got out of it though," said Ron, smiling weakly. "No point in worrying for now, is there?"  
  
All of them silently agreed.  
  
Hermione couldn't help herself anymore; she was so happy to see Harry and Ron alive that she proceeded to hug Ron.  
  
All four of them abruptly separated when Dumbledore stepped in, who immediately changed their mood from happy to sad.  
  
"I see our two adamant rulebreakers are awake?" he said in such a disappointed tone it cleanly wiped the smiles off all of their faces. "Miss Granger, Miss Chang, if I could have a word alone with Mr. Potter? Mr. Weasley, I'm sure your body is well up to standing and if you could please excuse us as well?"  
  
All of them were taken aback by Dumbledore's tone. Once before did Harry hear him sound like that and that was when Ron and him had been seen by Muggles driving a flying car. They were blocked from entering platform nine and three-quarters and didn't think to send an owl...  
  
Ron, who was at least happy to see that his body worked, got gingerly to his feet and walked out quietly with Hermione and Cho. Harry, who watched them leave, wished he could go, too. Dumbledore sat on the end of Harry's bed and Harry didn't like the look in his eyes behind his half-moon spectacles. Dumbledore was giving him a grave look that clearly said, "What were you thinking?" He was not happy. Neither was Harry.  
  
"I pleaded... with you, Harry, several times... to stay out of it," said Dumbledore slowly.  
  
"Professor!" Harry bursted out at once but Dumbledore raised a long finger to silence him.  
  
Dumbledore didn't seem to know one very important thing: that Wormtail knew how to get to the book and that he must have been forced to tell Thantanos when he disappeared. Now that Harry thought about it, it seemed very stupid not to have told Dumbledore this...  
  
But suddenly, Dumbledore's mood changed at the drop of a hat.  
  
"And I'm very glad you didn't heed my warnings," he said, smiling and completely ignoring the look of complete confusion on Harry's face.  
  
"Wh... what?" said Harry, totally lost.  
  
He blinked several times. Dumbledore was still smiling.  
  
"You're still struggling with your past but you're getting on very well, I think. You see, from the very moment you got word of the Book of Memories being under a threat, I knew there was nothing I could do to stop you from trying to prevent it from being taken and believe me, I tried very hard, indeed...  
  
"There is a certain stubbornness that has been passed down from generation to generation on your father's side. Thankfully, it is not without something to keep it in line. As I'm sure you are very much sick of hearing it, you are very much like your father." But what Dumbledore didn't know was that Harry would never be sick of hearing it. "He would have done the exact same thing. I asked you to not bother, but you kept at it. I threatened to expell you but after overhearing our conversation" -- and Harry felt very guilty; he held down the urge to ask about Sirius because he wanted to hear the rest of Dumbledore's speech -- "you still kept at it. I took away your cloak and map and your resourcefulness kicked in.  
  
"You do remember what I told you, do you not?" He waited patiently for Harry's mind to look around for what he was talking about and then suddenly, Harry remembered.  
  
"Remember if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy?" Harry recited, hoping that was what Dumbledore had in mind.  
  
"Exactly," said Dumbledore nodding, apparently very pleased. "You knew that I would not approve, and truth be told I rather didn't want you involved at first, but you saw fit to go about your business, regardless. I did find out that Pettigrew knew how to get past the Book's natural defense and reasoned the day he disappeared that he had been forced to tell... But it was back when you had heard our conversation that I realized there was no point in trying to stop you," he added, grinning broadly.  
  
Harry grinned back weakly, feeling more guilty still. He had to ask something.  
  
"Professor, what would you have done -- what would have happened -- if I didn't do anything?" he asked slowly. Harry half expected Dumbledore to begin shouting but to his relief, Dumbledore did nothing of the sort.  
  
"Ah, that is a good question and to be honest, I simply don't know. I was dearly afraid when I had found out Pettigrew disappeared and came back not remembering he had disappeared. Relief came to me, however, and do you know in what form that relief was?"  
  
Harry had not the slightest idea and he shook his head to let Dumbledore know.  
  
"Relief came to me... in the form of you, Harry," said Dumbledore, smiling wider still.  
  
Harry felt the heat rising in his face as he said blankly, "M-me?"  
  
He became aware of his breath again as his stomach churned, an urge to hold the Order of Merlin plaque slowly coming on. He, Harry was the person Dumbledore relied on?  
  
"Yes, Mr. Potter," said Dumbledore, "you. I hold a great deal of respect for you, moreso than I held for your father, after what yourself and Mr. Weasley did. I held a great deal for James, too, might I add.  
  
"In other matters, the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, and I have had a little chat since that day... and we came to the conclusion that it was best to not think about what Lord Voldemort had planned if he ever got hold of the Staff of Cybele," said Dumbledore, eyes glittering. Harry didn't want to think about it either. "We wondered, for some time, how is it that you three were able to retrieve it when the best wizards and witches of the age have consistently failed. Would you like, first, to say who it was that had stolen the book?"  
  
"Thantanos Quirrel," said Harry slowly but firmly. "Voldemort gave him the mark of ancients again and he was able to just Apparate and Disapparate."  
  
"And how is it that you, Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley were able to retrieve the staff?"  
  
"I don't really know," said Harry.  
  
He was feeling scared and nervous again but he couldn't pinpoint it. There was a rumble in his insides that made him want to stop fighting back the tears. Perhaps it was because there was so much that was uncertain about the ancients and no one really knew what other magic they held? Or perhaps it was because, even with Sirius back (if Dumbledore kept his promise, that is), Harry would still have no one that truly understood him. Did his parents have the answers to everything he wanted to know? They might, he thought miserably, but he would never find out.  
  
"Thantanos said that an ancient has to be there for it to work, and since I'm, well..." said Harry slowly. "Professor, what else is there to... to being an ancient?"  
  
"I'm afraid I cannot answer that and it's not because I don't want to, it's because I simply do not know. I daresay, there are secrets we are going to find out very soon. When I felt the castle shake I had truly felt you would not survive. When I saw you and Mr. Weasley in the hole by the Slytherin common room, though covered in your own blood, both of you were perfectly okay. Your friends Miss Chang and Miss Granger thought the exact opposite. The Staff of Cybele was resting, clutched in your hand and the Phoenix Bracelet had done a very curious thing," said Dumbledore, and expression of great wonderment on his face.  
  
"It had left your wrist," he went on, "and expanded to fit around yourself and Mr. Weasley. I went to pick it up and it immediately shrunk to normal size but that wasn't all that I saw that had caught my eye. Your skin, Harry. Your skin was glowing white," he said, positively beaming at Harry.  
  
Harry gaped at Dumbledore.  
  
"Unless I'm mistaken, the Book of Memories left you with one last memory projection."  
  
Harry suddenly remembered that he did see a flash of white light before he went unconscious. He told Dumbledore this.  
  
"That, I believe, is how Mr. Weasley and yourself survived. But" -- and he sighed deeply -- "Voldemort does have the book now and I believe we will be getting word of his revival sooner than we hope..."  
  
"Professor," Harry began uneasily. There was something he wanted to get on with. "Er -- Sirius..." he said.  
  
"Ah, yes," said Dumbledore, standing up. "How could I forget?"  
  
He picked up the staff and walked over to Sirius.  
  
"I'm not entirely sure how this is supposed to go," he said, his face folded up in a small bit of confusion that was not very reassuring.  
  
It was then that Harry noticed something. The lion's tail wasn't wagging and the crystal wasn't glowing.  
  
"Professor, when I held the staff for the first time, it changed from being four feet long and having Hufflepuff's badger on it, to... and the tail was moving and the crystal was glowing."  
  
Dumbledore turned around to face Harry and held out the staff as if he wanted Harry to take it.  
  
"It's not going to bite, is it?" said Dumbledore. Harry hesitated; he wasn't exactly sure of the answer to that one. "Go on."  
  
Harry slowly put a hand out and grabbed it. Immediately, the lion's head let out a playful growl. The tail began wagging merrily and the crystal started to glow.  
  
"Fascinating!" said Dumbledore.  
  
"Er -- Hermione, Ron, Cho and I think this thing was made before the time of Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin."  
  
Dumbledore looked pleasantly surprised at Harry's suggestion. "Old writings say this staff was made around the time of the ancients but it's not known if it was made at the start of their age, at the end or anywhere in between."  
  
"The crystal," said Harry, looking at it. It was no longer scratched as it had been when the staff was a badger. The glow was a distinct, bright white and oddly familiar... "It glows like the mark of ancients... was this was made by the ancients?"  
  
"Interesting thought, Harry, but I am not sure. For now, why don't you try to do what you've been wanting to do for a long, long time now?" said Dumbledore.  
  
Harry didn't understand at first but then Dumbledore pointed somewhere. Harry turned to look at saw that Dumbledore's finger was aimed at Sirius. Harry almost couldn't believe his eyes. He had the staff, he had Sirius and he knew what was possible.  
  
Harry stood up very apprehensively. He had absolutely no idea how to revive Sirius. There were no spells, there was no soul around to yell at and he felt stupid standing there, carrying an overgrown staff with a wagging tail. Harry gripped the staff as tight as he could in case for some reason it slipped.  
  
To his horror, the lion growled threateningly! Did he hurt it? Strangely enough, the staff seemed to be alive and it made Harry uneasy as he loosened his hand.  
  
Harry walked over to Sirius, living staff in hand. It was very big and therefore hard to handle -- the slightest movement of his hand caused the staff's weight to want to move farther in that direction... or was it the staff doing that? He stood on Sirius' side and then looked over his shoulder at Dumbledore for help.  
  
He said simply, "You want something to happen and you know what it is. Magic requires no funny words or wand-waving, it simply requires concentration."  
  
Harry kept that in mind as he held the Staff of Cybele over Sirius, the crystal just under Sirius' chin. He closed his eyes. Instantly, something happened as Harry felt a tingling feeling rush up his arm. He opened his eyes. The staff started to glitter golden and very soon, the glitter began to leak out of the crystal and onto Sirius. There was a rush of wind, a crack like a whip and something white and big came out of nowhere. It flew inside of Sirius through his open mouth. Harry watched as the glitter all over Sirius' body gathered at the tip of the crystal and disappeared inside of it. When it was all gone, he put the staff at his side.  
  
Sirius' eyes slowly opened. He blinked, looked around, saw Dumbledore, and smiled.  
  
"Ah," said Dumbledore, "it worked!"  
  
All Harry could do was take a deep breath and smile weakly, feeling ready to faint with happiness.  
  
"Albus?" said Sirius groggily. "Harry!" He tried to sit up but Dumbledore stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Lie down, Sirius," said Dumbledore. "You have been out for, what is it now, almost seven months?" He smiled pleasantly. Harry didn't know what to do; he was just happy to see Sirius alive. "I clearly remember you screaming 'protect Harry' to me before you left us. Ironically, it was he who has protected us."  
  
Dumbledore pried the Staff of Cybele out of Harry's fingers with great strength for a wizard so old. The tail stopped wagging and the crystal stopped glowing. He then held it up to Sirius who took one look at the staff and stared at Harry.  
  
"Is - is that the - the," he tried to say.  
  
"The Staff of Cybele," said Dumbledore, "and we have your godson here to thank..."  
  
Dumbledore then explained everything that happened since Sirius had last been awake, everything from the threat of the Book of Memories being stolen to it actually happening and how Harry and Ron managed to retrieve the staff and prevent it from being taken. Harry explained everything that he, Ron and Hermione had done since finding out about Sirius' state. Ron's dream in Divination about Sirius, the puffskein escapades, the basilisk, seeing the Dursleys, the dementor incident... Cho... but he purposely didn't mention the dream about Sirius and the one about his parents falling out of the staff. What would they have to say to that?  
  
When the story was finished, Sirius looked at Harry like he was a new person and then his mouth opened wide, full of pride, before morphing into a smile.  
  
"I knew it!" he said, his eyes, Harry was happy to see, alive and energetic. "And it turned into the Gryffindor lion as soon as you touched it, right?"  
  
"Yeah," said Harry uneasily, "but why did it take... me to get it?"  
  
"No one could ever retrieve it from the book because what binds it is ancient magic," Sirius replied still smiling but he quickly stopped because Harry gave him an even more confused look. "Albus and I could try our entire lives and the book would never give it up. An ancient has to be in the book's presence and they have to want the staff to come.  
  
"This staff, Harry, Albus, is very, very powerful and no one -- not one, except them -- can use the staff or it will just kill them. That is how powerful ancient magic is," Sirius added, noting the shock on Harry's face. "The staff becomes alive when you hold it," he said sharply, "I know it does and it doesn't do anything when anyone else holds it. That means, of course, that no one -- not one, except you -- can use it," he concluded, facing Harry.  
  
Sirius was glowing. Harry was horribly confused and didn't know what to think. He, Harry, use a staff taller than he was? It sounded absurd. Sirius turned to Dumbledore.  
  
"I think, Harry, that this staff belongs to you," said Dumbledore, holding the staff up to Harry, his eyes sparkling. Harry stared.  
  
"Y-you're going... to let me keep it?" Harry asked, feeling another round of shock coming on.  
  
"I think it's grown quite fond of you, has it not?"  
  
Harry took it. Standing it on it's bottom, the staff was much taller than he was. He still thought it was strange that the staff was alive, the tail wagging, the crystal glowing, occasionally letting out a pleasant, soft roar.  
  
"How do you know all of this?" Harry asked slowly.  
  
"Ah, you better sit down for this one," Sirius warned. And so Harry sat, putting the staff behind himself. "Your mom and dad were very interested in ancient magic. It think it's possible they dabbled in a little since they were able to actually use the artifacts. Lily's -- I see you finally have it -- Phoenix Bracelet was another artifact from the ancients. It will just not work for anyone else. I'm pretty sure it didn't work for her, it couldn't have. Your dad was a descendent of Gryffindor, not your mom. But I don't know what they did because they kept it all very secret."  
  
"I see," said Harry tonelessly. "So I'm only special because they experimented on me..." At least it looks like the experiment went smoothly, Harry thought.  
  
"I highly doubt that, Harry," said Sirius reassuringly. "Don't forget that you showed the mark of ancients when you were born. They did a lot of research into both the Staff of Cybele and the Book of Memories. The staff would be able to tell if you were just an experimental ancient or a real ancient. And besides, you revived me and you're still alive," he added, smiling broadly. "That and the bracelet works for you."  
  
After all the time since finding out, Harry still found it hard for the fact that he was a descendent of an order of wizards five thousand years old to sink in. It was like trying to stuff a mandrake into a pot after pulling it out -- it just didn't want to go in. He'd like to have some more answers, as a certain emptiness inside him reminded him, particularly --  
  
"How come when I touch the Book of Memories I see..." said Harry, his voice becoming softer, his eyes wandering aimlessly, "I see... my parents..."  
  
"I would love to answer that one," said Sirius with a great deal of hopelessness Harry was unhappy to hear, "but I simply don't know. I would say there's still a lot about you we don't know yet and our surprises aren't over. Just watch out for yourself, that's the best I can tell you, and if you come across anything such as when you found out that being a Parselmouth is the mark of a Dark wizard, ignore it, Harry," said Sirius sternly, "just ignore it. Voldemort transferred Parseltongue to you and who's say there's not other things we don't know about yet."  
  
"Like -- like what?" Harry asked hesitantly.  
  
"We can't answer that one either," said Dumbledore, feeling displeased that he couldn't. "It is well known that Voldemort practiced Necromancy, Summoning and all manner of destructive, forbidden and ancient magic," he continued in a more serious tone. "A branch that deals with the elements such as lightning clearly showed the day of your Fire Quidditch game. It's only a matter of time before more surfaces but you should not have to fear it. Recent events clearly show that you are not a Dark wizard and have no intention of becoming one. Put this one to rest, Harry, or it's going to haunt you for a long time as it no doubt already is.  
  
"In other matters," Dumbledore went on, "I have a strong suspicion that you have been blaming yourself for Sirius, have you not?"  
  
Harry paused, feeling distinctly hot in the face. He felt embarassed at having to say so in front of Sirius but what was there to it? He tried to rescue Sirius from Azkaban, knowing full well dementors could make him... faint and he fainted.  
  
"Yes," he muttered dully, avoiding both of their eyes, particularly those of Sirius.  
  
"Do you remember what else I told you?" Dumbledore asked calmly.  
  
Dumbledore told Harry lots of things. The problem was that Harry couldn't remember them all. This must have shown on his face.  
  
"The day you found out about Sirius' condition, I told you... that you had more hardships ahead of you -"  
  
"You also told me to not take the wrong fork in the road but look what happened," he said softly and angrily, looking up.  
  
"Ah," said Dumbledore triumphantly, "but you see it was your stubbornness that led you to find a way to correct that mistake --"  
  
"But it was still a mistake!" Harry bursted out, now looking up at Dumbledore.  
  
"There are mistakes that we can correct," said Dumbledore calmly, "and there are mistakes that we cannot correct. The ones that we can, and that have been with no lasting harm done, should not haunt us."  
  
Harry sat silent. He had nothing to say to that and something told him to not tell about the repeating dream where Sirius shouted at him "You killed me!" because he felt it was settled.  
  
"I have said everything that I wanted to," Dumbledore told Harry. "Is there anything you wish to add?"  
  
"There's two things," said Harry slowly. "The staff," he began, "I think it was... was talking to me. It told me to pick it up and when Thantanos -- er -- casted the Cruciatus Curse on me," he said still more slowly, to which Sirius winced very noticeably, "it... kept telling me to break from it."  
  
Dumbledore looked at Sirius quizzically but Sirius smiled.  
  
"The staff is alive," he told Harry and Dumbledore, "as you have already found out. It knows everything you want to know but the trick is getting it to speak to you. I have no idea how to make it do that."  
  
"It was getting angry with me when I didn't pick it up for about the seventh time."  
  
"Seven times it told you to pick it up?" said Dumbledore, goggling at Harry.  
  
"It speaks to it's owner," said Sirius. "If it told you that you could break from Crucio, well, I needn't say that you should have tried."  
  
"How could I possibly break from that curse under all that -- that pain!" said Harry incredulously.  
  
"We're probably going to find out a lot of things we don't know yet now that you have the Staff of Cybele," said Sirius. "What was the other thing?" Sirius asked, shifting in his bed.  
  
Harry suddenly became very hot and he could tell the nervousness on his face was showing. Sirius was looking Harry straight in the eye and Harry couldn't look back at him and deny his promise to tell anything and everything. He wanted to know, wanted to ask, if there was any truth... to the dream... about his parents... falling out of the Staff of Cybele... just to see, just in case...  
  
He felt himself shaking, trying dearly to not let them see that his bottom lip was trying to quiver. Harry looked at his feet. Sirius must have noticed all of this because he got up and sat next to Harry, who was glad Dumbledore didn't stop Sirius. This wasn't going to be easy.  
  
"I -- er -- one night during Christmas," Harry began slowly, "I had a dream that I was -- that I had this staff in my hand and..." Forgetting all about his feet, Harry suddenly became very interested in his fingers. That dream, it looked so real... "And it... it... brought... them back to life," he said heavily, exhaling all the rest of his breath as he finished.  
  
"Who's them?" asked Dumbledore, knowing perfectly well what the answer was. Harry did nothing more than look up at Dumbledore for a brief second, face full of a terrible sadness and then go back to his fascinating fingers. "You miss them --"  
  
"I never knew them," said Harry in a small voice, "how can I miss them."  
  
His nerves could almost not take any more and there was no fighting back the tear in his eye.  
  
"Dreams can keep us going or they can tear us down," said Dumbledore calmly and knowingly. Harry sniffed. Sirius put an arm around him, lightly gripping his opposite shoulder. "The Staff of Cybele reawakening the dead is nothing but a long-standing myth. Why, if it were true, immortality would be for everyone. It hurts me just as much as it hurts you," Dumbledore added, noting Harry's silence.  
  
"No it doesn't," Harry replied hotly.  
  
"I see," said Dumbledore this time noting Harry's persistance.  
  
There was no sound for a full minute except Harry's sniffing. Sirius gently shook Harry's shoulder. Harry's eyes were grazing the floor, half wishing Mrs. Weasley was there to hug him. Or Cho... either would do.  
  
"I will be back," Dumbledore told Sirius, standing up. "I am going to get something. Please don't let him go anywhere."  
  
And he was gone. Harry wasn't going to go anywhere, anyway. Where would he go?  
  
Sirius, on the other hand, looked to be straining to find something to say -- he didn't like to watch Harry sob silently -- but words seemed to utterly fail him. He was glad to see Dumbledore return promptly, now holding something in his hand he didn't recognize. Harry didn't bother to look.  
  
"I think you might find a good need for this," said Dumbledore calmly, handing Harry a handsome, leather-covered book.  
  
Wiping some tears on his sleeve, Harry opened it. It was the photo album Hagrid had given him which he thought he tore up. Someone seemed to have been able to make it look like he had done no such thing... and then he remembered that Dumbledore had fixed it.  
  
"I don't want pictures," said Harry, trying to dispell his tears, looking at the book hungrily, "I want the real thing."  
  
There didn't look to be any way to cheer Harry up. Dumbledore needed to pull a new trick out of his hat.  
  
"You want comfort, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, trying his best to sound displeased but in reality, meaning to get somewhere. "Hold the plaque on your Order of Merlin necklace."  
  
Harry shut the book immediately, placing it aside and looked up.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Go on," Dumbledore insisted. "It could very well have an effect now."  
  
He even went so far as to pick the necklace up from the bedside table and hold it in front of Harry. Harry, hesitating, took it. Dumbledore was now authentically displeased to see that he was right: Harry stopped sobbing at once.  
  
"There, now do you feel better?" asked Dumbledore with an air of superiority as Sirius caught on. "Whenever you are feeling down, Harry, I want you to hold it, tight, so that you never have to feel down again. It would be great if everyone had one, wouldn't it? Wouldn't it be great if everyone had something to call their own Order of Merlin Necklace? If everyone did such great things as some of us in this room have?"  
  
Harry stared. He looked at his hand, at the thing inside it and then quickly put it around his neck, not holding it anymore. What had Dumbledore meant?  
  
"You cannot hold on forever. Anyone who wants for so long and does not get, whether they know if they can get or not, is going to start feeling a cavernous emptiness," said Dumbledore wisely. "Unless I'm sadly mistaken, this is what you are going through. The rumors about the Staff of Cybele reawakening the dead are nothing more than myth, legend and folklore. The ancients themselves have tried such a thing and were not successful. There were legends about this, books written on it, entire schools placed down to study it. While the rumors still exist, it has been studied more than you have been and that is saying something. One cannot simply force life again."  
  
"You said I would see them again!" Harry shouted miserably.  
  
"And so you will see them again," affirmed Dumbledore, making Harry feel more miserable. He took a deep breath and continued. "You must put them behind you or it will bother you forever," he said shaking his head in a very serious manner. Harry sighed deeply, slightly slipping back into gloom.  
  
"If it comes as any consolation," Dumbledore went on slightly more cheerfully (but Harry didn't feel like being cheerful just yet), "Cornelius and I have come to the agreement that your abysmal O.W.L. score was a direct result of a lack of time and extreme stress ('extreme' being an understatement), among other things. Therefore, we feel that, in light of your grades each year, it would not hurt to add, say, ten more wizarding levels? Not to mention, of course, that your skill far exceeds that of many of your classmates, don't you think?" he added, grinning broadly.  
  
Sirius shook Harry's shoulder encouragingly, chuckling lightly. Harry couldn't help but break a small smile and give a short, embarassed giggle. 


	25. Resilience

Chapter 25: RESILIENCE  
  
"I also have another surprise for yourself, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger," said Dumbledore. "This is not something that I would like to share with the school so please be in front of my office the day before the Leaving Feast just after dinner.  
  
"As for now, lunch begins in a few minutes. You may leave whenever you like. Please be aware, though, that many students are still shaken up by Pettigrew's death and the theft of the book.  
  
"I must be going. I shall see you at lunch?"  
  
"Okay," said Harry. "Good-bye."  
  
And Dumbledore was gone.  
  
Sirius stood up. Harry ran a hand through his hair, letting everything he just heard since he first woke up and spoke to Ron sink in. It was quite a bit. Some of it was nice but most of it wasn't, especially knowing that Voldemort was probably walking already.  
  
"So what's going to happen with Voldemort?" asked Harry staring into space, his hands in his lap, slouching.  
  
"I think you should wait to worry about that until after the summer's over," said Sirius, looking at Harry, who didn't look back. "He can't get to you while you're at the Dursleys."  
  
"I'm going to have to stay with them again, aren't I?" Harry asked tonelessly.  
  
Sirius nodded and said, "Maybe they'll be a little bit nicer this time?"  
  
"Yeah, maybe. They weren't so bad when you were there. Can you stay again this summer?"  
  
"Don't know. I'll have to ask Albus. I hope so."  
  
"I hope so, too," said Harry, not really believing it. "And is my Aunt really a witch? We got our book lists over the summer and one of them was written by a Petunia Dursley..."  
  
"Nope," said Sirius at once. "She would have a fit if she was. There's just another Petunia Dursley somewhere who is a witch. In any case, you better go see your friends. They're probably dying to hear more."  
  
"Don't use the 'd' word," said Harry sharply and now looking at Sirius. "It's bad enough it almost happened again..."  
  
Sensing danger, Sirius said quickly, "Come on now, Ron, Hermione and Cho are waiting! Got yourself a girlfriend, have you?" he added, forcing his face into a grin.  
  
Harry's ears went pink and he quickly stood up. He couldn't deny it, it was true but the thought still sounded strange to him.  
  
"Maybe you can have her over during summer vacation?" Sirius suggested.  
  
"Are you crazy? Do you have any idea what my aunt and uncle would say?" said Harry incredulously... but then another idea came to him. "It might not be so bad," he thought aloud, rubbing his chin. "Yeah, I'd like that! But I would have to convince them and that won't be easy..."  
  
"I'm sure you'll think of something. Come on now," he said, patting Harry on the shoulder again, "you haven't eaten for a few days."  
  
Sirius and Harry left the hospital wing together. Sirius guessed -- correctly -- that Harry wanted his arm around him. It was comforting and the experience with Thantanos was still unnerving. What else was he going to find out about himself? Could he really fight off the Cruciatus Curse? He could fight off the Imperius Curse but, Crucio...  
  
Harry took the staff with him and showed it to Ron, Hermione and Cho. They didn't believe at first, even when Sirius said so, that Dumbledore was letting Harry keep it. They followed him up to his dormitory and he left it there and they still didn't believe him. It took Dumbledore to say so at lunch that afternoon. When he told Ron and Hermione in private about Dumbledore wanting to meet them, they already knew.  
  
Harry was always reminded that Voldemort was walking again. No one seemed to know, over the next few days, where Voldemort could be. A small smile was brought to Harry's face when he found out that several professors had requested permission for Harry to bring the staff to their class. Among them, Professor Flitwick, Professor Trelawney and Professor McGonagall. Dumbledore flat out refused but one day in Paladism, curiosity must have gotten the better of Dumbledore and he asked Harry to get it with a Summoning Charm.  
  
At one point, Malfoy swiped the staff from Harry's desk.  
  
"Tell him to put me down!" said the familiar, soft voice in Harry's head. He still found it very strange that the staff could speak to him.  
  
"Malfoy," said Harry at once, fearing what it might do, "put the staff down."  
  
"Why, Potter?" sneered Malfoy, obviously not caring at all about the serious look on Harry's face.  
  
"Who is this idiot?" asked the voice.  
  
Harry tried hard to force down a laugh seeing that the staff didn't like Malfoy either. It must be able to recognize bad blood, Harry thought.  
  
"The staff can talk to me," said Harry.  
  
"It can talk to you?" said Malfoy flatly. He obviously thought Harry had finally lost it. The lion's mouth growled menacingly. "Cheap tricks," said Malfoy.  
  
The next second, Malfoy was screaming earsplittingly loud after the crystal glowed golden for a split second. The Staff of Cybele had casted the Cruciatus Curse. Harry jerked it out of Malfoy's grip, relieving him (against his better judgement; he silently felt he should have let someone else do it).  
  
Gryffindors were able to hold the staff without effect but every Slytherin that merely touched it had bad experiences. Pansy Parkinson got a case of slug-belching. Dumbledore forbade anyone to attempt a spell with it except Harry.  
  
To Harry's relief, the last page of Harry Potter: Lucky or Legendary was read in Defense Against the Dark Arts at the end of March. The very next class, however, nobody seemed to be in the room, not even Ron or Hermione.  
  
"Hello?" called Harry. The bell rang five minutes ago. It was creepy.  
  
He took his usual seat and waited. Maybe Professor Delacour had canceled class? And he hadn't gotten word? But someone would have told him. Ron or Hermione would have said something!  
  
He pulled out his wand -- something just didn't seem right. Harry craned his head all around the empty room, surveying the the stone walls but there was nothing but himself and the desks to be seen. It creeped him out. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Someone was watching him. That was it. By now, he knew well what that feeling meant.  
  
"Someone's there," he said. "Come on, where are you?"  
  
He continued to look around the room. It still looked quite empty and the feeling continued to creep him out.  
  
"Accio staff," he muttered so that the person couldn't hear him. If someone was after him, he wasn't going to make it easy. The Staff of Cybele came flying through the classroom door, purring softly, and it flew right into his hand. Someone swore. Harry distinctly heard someone's voice.  
  
"Accio invisibility cloak," he muttered. What was up, was quickly unveiled.  
  
To Harry's horror, the entire class of Defense Against the Dark Arts was huddled in a corner of the room under the Invisibility Cloak, which was engorged to a tremendous size. Harry was quite angry that someone saw fit to "borrow" his cloak but didn't voice it. Hermione later told him it wasn't his and that Professor Delacour had found another one.  
  
"Ah!" said Professor Delacour breaking the unsettling silence. "So you can!"  
  
"Can what," said Harry, staring at her not unlike how Professor McGonagall usually does it.  
  
"Can tell if someone is watching you," she replied. "One of your powers. This is a rare gift."  
  
"And you had to hide everyone to find out?" said Harry angrily.  
  
Professor Delacour's ears went pink. It wasn't the best of ideas, she admitted but Harry had to admit that it worked beautifully.  
  
And so it was a rare gift. The class continued about rare gifts wizards have been bestowed with. Harry's uncanny ability to know if someone was watching him was on a wizard in the early second century by the name of Seeus Acerbu. No one since then, Professor Delacour told the class, has been known to have this ability. Harry wasn't at all pleased to learn that Acerbu was a Dark wizard.  
  
He took comfort in the fact that he kept -- needlessly -- repeating to himself that he wasn't going to be a Dark wizard. More and more evidence kept popping up that it was his destiny... but the centaurs in the forbidden forest had once read from the planets that he was going to die, and he hadn't... No, Harry was sure it was just all stuff to test him and he was going to pass with flying colors.  
  
He kept to himself ever since that day, only taking the spotlight when he had to during Quidditch games, which had been reestablished ever since danger passed. Everyone thought they didn't really need to actually play the games. Gryffindor had been beating everyone so badly there was just no point. At least Harry no longer thought of a particular someone when hearing a particular someone else's name.  
  
But he wasn't sure of himself. He still shaky on what he was... who ("or what", said a nasty voice in his head) he was going to grow up to be... But why? There was no reason in particular... there was just something that wasn't right.. there was something he wanted and still didn't have and he couldn't pinpoint it... The experience with Thantanos didn't match the experience with Voldemort two years ago nor did it match going unconscious and living in a forest for a week but it had the effect that Voldemort would have wanted: Harry feared what was to come, what Voldemort would be capable of. A particularly nasty feeling was that he would soon find out why Voldemort had made such a name for himself. All of it made his head hurt. He tried not to think about it.  
  
The day before the Leaving Feast came and everyone found out, except one poor first year who was nearly a Squib, born into a wizarding family with no magical ability, that they passed and would be advancing to their next year at Hogwarts. Harry, Ron and Hermione ate slowly so they could extend their stay and not look suspicious that they were staying for the entire time. This spawned many questions from Ginny, who, to Harry's dismay, had been giving Harry even more bad looks ("She's just mad you're with Cho," Ron told Harry comfortingly).  
  
So after dinner ended, Harry caught Dumbledore's eye and he nodded. Harry, Ron and Hermione left first and they arrived at the gargoyle on the way to Dumbledore's office.  
  
"What d'you think..." started Ron. Neither of them knew what Dumbledore wanted. It was just as much of a mystery to Harry as it was to Ron and Hermione.  
  
"He made it sound like it's something really important," said Harry. He didn't really believe it but he hoped it was because that way, Ron, who always felt shoved to the side in Harry's fame, would have something...   
  
Hermione tapped Harry and Ron on the shoulder. "Here he comes," she said.  
  
"Ah," said Dumbledore, strolling nonchalantly down the corridor. "The others are already inside."  
  
"The others?" said Harry and Hermione simultaneously. Ron just stared nonplussed.  
  
Dumbledore walked up to the stone gargoyle and said, "Flamel," to it. It sprang to life and jumped aside, the wall behind it splitting in two.  
  
All four of them stepped on the staircase which rose upwards like an escalator, higher and higher, stopping before the oak door which led into Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore knocked once and someone opened it. Arabella Figg was standing behind it. Harry felt an sudden sense of awkwardness. He always thought Mrs. Figg was a nice, if rather stinky, old lady until lady until he found out that she was a witch just last year.  
  
He also immediately recognized Remus Lupin, who was professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts for one year. Professor Snape was standing in one corner, avoiding Harry's eyes completely. There was another old wizard, dressed in robes of bright orange, wearing a strange looking top hat and carrying a large stick.  
  
"Mundungus Fletcher," said the old wizard, noticing Harry was staring at him. "Heard about your exploits, very pleased to meet you," he added, bowing and tipping his hat to Harry.  
  
"Hello," said Harry. Harry thought Mr. Fletcher, who seemed to ignore Ron and Hermione, very odd but he didn't voice this. He was more keen on running over to Sirius who was sitting in Dumbledore's chair.  
  
"Good to see you three," said Lupin. He happily shook Harry's, Ron's and Hermione's hands.  
  
"So you'd probably like to know why you're here," said Dumbledore in a much more serious tone. "I believe you've heard of it once but you must discount that as you were being lied to by one Michelle Brev. I will explain it properly.  
  
"After many failed attempts at Aurors catching Lord Voldemort, a group of highly dedicated wizards, completely fed up, formed the Order of the Phoenix. Aside from Sirius, everyone you see here was part of this group and yes, even Fawkes."  
  
At this, Fawkes fluttered off his perch on the door and landed on Dumbledore's shoulder, pressing his warm, scarlet feathers up against Dumbledore's cheek.  
  
"As a safety precaution, all of us have wands with a tail feather from Fawkes at it's core. If you rememeber, two wands of the same core forced to fight against each other will refuse and invoke the rare Priori Incantatem effect."  
  
Harry remembered this all too well. This effect causes one of two wands to execute all the spells it casted in reverse order. Harry had seen his parents as shadows of their former selves, the thought of which made him force back a show of emotion...  
  
"You'll also remember that Fawkes had dropped another tail feather once last year, and now, that makes two," said Dumbledore suggestively. "There are difficult times ahead of us. Hagrid has done as asked, asking the giants roaming England with Madam Maxime and the giants will not join Lord Voldemort. However, the dementors... Cornelius refused to remove them from Azkaban.  
  
"Lord Voldemort is rumored to be somewhere in the country and word has already spread of his famous killings. Just this evening the Daily Prophet had an article on thirty Muggles dying just south of Surrey in a shopping center.  
  
"My other fear is that he will not repeat the same mistake he had made at the end of last year and attempt to take Harry from us by magical means. You may repel magic, Harry," said Dumbledore gravely to Harry, "but you do not repel Muggle means. This is why we believe, in light of recent actions, that you, Miss Granger, and you, Mr. Weasley should take these tail feathers. New wands will be tailored to you and shall each be sent a new one over the summer. Mr. Ollivander will require your old wands in the mean time. We will be hard pressed to stop Lord Voldemort from gaining the power he had fifteen years ago but we are going to try.  
  
"Harry, you will take the Staff of Cybele to the Dursleys with you. Mrs. Figg, who has some knowledge with staves, will attempt to show you how to better use it. As a result, the Ministry of Magic has agreed to lift the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardy on the three of you on the condition that magic is used only when utterly necessary.  
  
"We will try our very best to keep another confrontation between yourself and Lord Voldemort from happening but if it does, and I fear it will, the Staff of Cybele is your best weapon, our best weapon. I, personally, will be doing as much research on it as possible to find out what it is capable of but I am already sure it is capable of great things."  
  
It took a second for that to sink in. Harry suddenly felt singled out, like everyone was watching him but they weren't; Ron and Hermione were looking at Dumbledore. He wanted to grab the Order of Merlin plaque that was dangling from his neck but Dumbledore's words to him stopped his hand. Out of all people, Dumbledore was asking him, Harry, to prepare for the very worst... will it ever be over? Will the staff be the thing to end it? Harry hoped against hope that it was close...  
  
Next, Dumbledore seemed to read Harry's mind. He turned to Professor Snape. "This time," said Dumbledore. "Return quickly if anything should go wrong." Snape merely nodded and left. He had done that once before and it was still as confusing to Harry as it was last time.  
  
"Harry, I'm very sorry but Sirius must stay with Remus for an undetermined amount of time. Arabella, you'll be taking up Potions?" She nodded. And so that was it. Snape was leaving and Mrs. Figg was taking his position as Potions master. "I will be repeating the information on Lord Voldemort tomorrow evening at the Leaving Feast and now that I have spoken myself thin," said Dumbledore, clearing his throat, "I believe we are finished. You must not tell anyone else about the Order of the Phoenix as it is running under the utmost of secrecy and must stay that way to be at all effective."  
  
It wasn't at all the grandeur ceremony Harry had in his head before they entered Dumbledore's office... But as he lay in bed that night in his four-poster, he concluded that all of it was going to be over very soon. Just how though, he had to ask, does one kill someone who has almost achieved immortality? It made him feel sick. How was he supposed to stop Voldemort with just a seven foot long staff that makes voices in his head? Perhaps what stopped him from going to sleep for several long hours was knowing that Voldemort was, without a doubt, going to find a way to kill Harry, and nothing anyone could do was going to stop him.  
  
Yeah, Harry told himself, you're dead. Just enjoy the last of your days. Maybe if he waved the Staff of Cybele threateningly at Uncle Vernon with a note from Dumbledore saying the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardy has been lifted for him, he could convince Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon to let Cho stay for a day. He felt like he was eleven again, like he was blowing everything out of proportion, when he was new to being a wizard. The amazement, the wonder, the joy...  
  
But suddenly he thought, yes, that was it, he was just making it sound worse than it was really going to be. Dumbledore was who everyone said was the best wizard, not Voldemort. What was Harry thinking! As he rolled over on his other side, all he wanted was to go to sleep. Nevermind what Dumbledore said, he was going to grab the Order of Merlin plaque just once more, just to fall asleep. And as it rested between his fingers, all his troubling thoughts were taken away like Hedwig to the skies.  
  
"Now go to sleep already, Harry," said a soft, familiar voice in the back of his head. "You're making me worry, too."  
  
"Thanks," said Harry in his head back to the staff, full of sarcasm. "Way to make me feel better."  
  
"Don't mention it," said the staff.  
  
Harry put the necklace back on his bedside table.  
  
"A little help here?" he then asked his staff.  
  
"Sure," it replied. "Trouble sleeping?"  
  
Harry, feeling very strange at having just spoken to the staff again, grabbed the staff, pointed it at himself and was magically put fast asleep the next second. The staff dropped out of his hand and rolled onto the floor.  
  
At the Leaving Feast the next day, Dumbledore had indeed repeated all the information he told Harry, Ron and Hermione about Voldemort. A wave of fear, whispers of Harry's name and whispers of the Staff of Cybele permeated through the Great Hall. Dumbledore let everyone talk themself silent and continued.  
  
"For once, the Ministry is not against my words. There are dark times ahead of us but I believe it is no help to not say what it is to come if what is to come can cause fear. No doubt most, if not all of you, young as you are, do not know how Lord Voldemort gripped us but he will be stopped again, I assure you."  
  
Harry didn't pay much attention to the rest of Dumbledore's speech. His mind was up in his dormitory with the Staff of Cybele. He had a new object that he could hold onto to feel comfort. The thought was not appealing to him. At least that was magical; the necklace was not. What was appealing to him was to hear that he and Ron had earned Gryffindor three hundred points each, securing the House Cup for Gryffindor for the sixth year in a row. Ron felt Harry deserved more, however, because Harry had felt the painful end of another Cruciatus.  
  
That night, Harry, Neville, Ron, Seamus and Dean packed their trunks in utter silence. None of them had much to say except steal glances at the staff, Harry included. Hermione gave him a bag to carry it in once they exited platform nine and three-quarters. Harry didn't want to put it in his trunk. For one, it wouldn't fit and secondly, the fact that everyone continually stared at it made him feel a little better. Maybe if he looked powerful, he might start to think he stood any bit of a chance alone against Voldemort.  
  
On the Hogwarts Express back to King's Cross, a whole lot of time was spent simply staring at the gorgeous Staff of Cybele, the fur swaying from the wind, which came in from the purposely open window, and the tail wagging merrily as Harry held it.  
  
"Hey, staff," said Harry in his head, "you got a name? Can you speak to everyone else?"  
  
Harry was getting bored and nobody was saying much. Everyone seemed to have the same thing on their mind: Voldemort. Day was becoming night... They were close to King's Cross by now...  
  
"Yes," the staff affirmed but this time the voice wasn't in Harry's head and this time it sounded the complete opposite of soft: deep and savage but still kind. The crystal had disappeared from the lion's mouth, which was moving as it spoke. "And I've got a name."  
  
Hermione, Ron and Ginny gave a start. Ron stood up so suddely, his owl, Pigwidgeon, fell out of his lap. Everyone was staring, horrorstruck, as the tiny mouth moved. It didn't phase Harry though, he had seen enough strange things to last him a lifetime.  
  
"Holy crap!" chorused Ginny and Hermione together.  
  
"Holy crap?" said the staff. "Where? I haven't eaten in ages!"  
  
"So it can talk!" said Harry.  
  
"Yes, I can talk. I was created by a witch named Cybele," it said. "That's the last I know. My memory was destroyed since but I do remember that she named me Raides. For the phonetically challenged, that's 'raid' and 's,' accent on the raid." It's mouth curled into a twisted grin.  
  
"Wow," said Harry breathlessly. "I'm going to have fun with you, Raides."  
  
"As I with you, young ancient."  
  
Harry blinked. He suddenly felt safer holding the Staff of Cybele. Ron, Hermione and Ginny were all goggling at it.  
  
This was going to be an interesting summer vacation. 


End file.
